


We're Still Here

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Background Beauregard/Yasha, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Self-Harm, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Caleb met Nott online three years ago.Three days ago, Nott had moved into a new apartment.Today, Caleb stands on her doorstep, everything he owns on his back, with an invite to live with her.Nott, her odd, overly supportive neighbours, and the tiefling next door that hasn't slept in three days- all people that want to help.But Caleb isn't sure if he deserves it.(And one sleep-deprived tiefling isveryready to show him that he does.)(Updates on Fridays, Tuesdays, and Sundays!) [New update day added!]





	1. Of Uncertain Beginnings

Caleb’s breath shakes, hard, as he raises his fist to knock at the door of his new home.

Nott moved in three days ahead of him, living closer, she’s been keeping him updated on the progress. Mostly drunk. She would never admit it, but even with her streak of control and dominance, Nott gets nervous easily and drinks to drown her problems, increase her confidence.  
His knuckles tremble, hovering an inch from the door and he swallows down his own rising fear. Stares.

And turns away.

He’s already been enough trouble for Nott. They’d met online, a _therapy_ site of sorts, more a forum to discuss problems and build new relationships, useful especially for those that had lost years of their lives. Mostly, Caleb knows, ex-convicts haunted by the things that they’ve done.

He’s halfway to the stairwell when another door opens and some blue smudge steps into the hall and turns like they’re heading for Nott’s door, stops dead in front of him and blocks his way. He mumbles an apology, blinking to clear tears clouding he hadn’t realised were there, flattens himself to a wall to let them past.  
There’s a face close to his, blinking owlishly, and a bright grin with sharp canines. Caleb recognises this person as a tiefling, ribbons braided through strands of their hair in what he’s near enough certain is Nott’s work.  
“Ah!” They say, and step back to straighten up. It makes little difference, they’re easily a foot shorter than Caleb is, standing across from him and still watching, still staring. “Are you Caleb? Are you lost?”  
“Uh- um. _Ja_ , and _nein_ , in, in that order.” Caleb stumbles, eyes them a little more. Pale white-purple irises, unusual for a tiefling, their eyes are usually one solid colour. And a pretty dress, if simple, which doesn’t seem to be this person’s usual style if he’s to judge by their chains and nails and makeup. They also, he notices, have a flecking of freckles across their nose and cheeks. Cute.  
“You’re going the wrong way, though.” They ponder, frowning a little in confusion, “Come on, I’m going to see Nott. Oh, she’s been so excited!” They catch his wrist and his breath catches in his throat,  
“Uh. Um. Ah- ex- oh. ‘Kay.” Caleb tries and trails off, his nerves crashing up too far for him to resist the worry of the contact, the stranger pulls him back to Nott’s door and knocks. He memorises the way they do so, a light, jingley rap pattern that could be a song. And then they open the door and head straight in, much to Caleb’s breathy half-word protests.  
  
“No-ott!” They sing to the apartment as they pull him in, “I brought you a _present_!”  
Caleb looks around as he enters. The place to be his new home, if Nott still wants him- it opens into a kitchen area almost right away, with chrome metallic worktops meticulously cleaned, a couple of carrots and a knife the only mess there. The blue stranger drags further, into the main room, a cream carpet and plain walls but still pretty, and not plain enough to bring up memories of endless white.  
“What today? Not more donuts, please, Jester, you know I appreciate- Caleb.”  
Nott emerges from a door on the far side, smoothing out the creases in a shirt, stops dead when she sees Caleb. Jester, the blue smudge, Caleb assumes, finally releases him and bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet as she steps just out of the way.  
“A _present!_ ” She tells Nott, brightly.  
Nott tears across the room and jumps up, almost half Caleb’s height but still very determined to get her arms around his shoulders. He ducks down a little as she moves, and she does manage to clasp her hands together between his shoulder blades. He notes, as he stands up with her in his arms, that she is _very_ light, even for a goblin.  
“Oh, you freeze up when _I_ touch you, but you’ll wrap Nott up like a burrito, huh?” Jester’s tail sways, “I see how it is!”  
Caleb looks over Nott’s shoulder at her,  
“N-no, hm. I don’t-”  
“Relax, Caleb, I’m teasing!” Jester waves a hand, and Nott squishes him once before wriggling to be let down. He drops her, unceremoniously, and she just manages to catch herself.  
“It’s nice to actually _meet_ you.” She grins up at him, “You’re very warm.”  
“You are very small.” Caleb smiles nervously, his eyes dart around, and Nott places her carefully dulled clawtips at his cuff,  
“Do you want to sit down? I can show you your room…”  
“I just- hm. Are you sure that it is okay that I am here?”  
Nott looks up in shocked silence for a second, and then lets out almost a bark of laughter,  
“Do you need to ask? Of course it is, Caleb!” She pats his wrist, “Jester will be here a while. What do you want to do?”  
Jester waves as her name is said, and Caleb looks between her and Nott as he thinks.  
“I… would like to take a few minutes. I need to recollect myself.”  
Nott nods and turns, waves him over to the door she’d come from,  
“I was setting your bed out when you came in.” She tells him proudly, “Here you go. Whenever you’re ready.”  
She stands aside and lets Caleb in, and the moment he closes the door to _his bedroom_ behind him, everything feels… right. Perfect. He looks around, there’s the smell of paint in the air and he breathes it in deep. The walls are painted a pretty, dusky orange-purple, if there’s such a colour to exist, it can’t exactly be described as pink. Caleb’s bedspread is plain, brown, but he spots a folded blanket with a cat on and that nearly sends him into floods of tears.  
“Oh.” He says to himself, shocked, “I almost- I’m sorry.”  
And clicks Frumpkin into existence on the end of the bed. He’s fluffed up and giving a low _mrrrrw_ of displeasure at being trapped in the Feywild for so long. Caleb steps up to fluff his face a little.  
“I am sorry, Frumpkin, but you know how airlines are for familiars.” He says, softly, and Frumpkin gives a mewl of displeasure before turning to lie down. Caleb steps away, leaves him be as he dumps his two bags beside the bed and sits down. Rubs his face.  
Breathes.  
He’s here. He’s alive. He’s wanted. This room isn’t white, there’s a bed and a blanket and his cat, and a cute little succulent on a desk with a new quill. Nott has thought of everything.  


Caleb emerges from his room near ten minutes later, quietly, slips down the hall to the bathroom that Frumpkin has scouted for him so that he can rinse his face very quickly before rejoining the room. There’s three of them now; Nott, Jester, and a tall, handsome green fellow who looks to be a half-orc. He thinks he may have heard the name _Fjord_ , but he’ll check that when he joins them.  
He dabs his face off with a towel and turns to rejoin.  
And now there’s four of them.  
Another human, her skin darker than his, and a loud mouth by the sound of it, but the only free seat left is next to her- Jester, Fjord, and Nott have taken one couch, and the single chair has a bag thrown on it, Caleb won’t move something that belongs to someone else and he comes in quietly,  
“-Used to be the hub until you moved in, you know! But your apartment is much cleaner than ours- oh! Hello, Caleb!” Jester breaks her sentence to wave to him, and he takes a deep breath to cross the last distance and sit as far from the other human as is possible. He’s grateful that she seems to think the same, she edges away from him as best she can.  
“Caleb, this is Beau! She’s my _roomie_ .” Jester beams, emphasises _roomie_ and Caleb pays attention to the way she stresses the ‘oo’ of it, like a low rumble. It could be her accent, he thinks, or it could be the Infernal that touches each vowel that she pulls from her lips.  
Beau looks at him, up and down, and holds out a tentative hand.  
“Hey. Beauregard.” She greets, jerks her chin up to emphasise, and Caleb very loosely takes and shakes,  
“Caleb. Widogast.” He answers, his voice quiet and eyes deliberately fixed on a point above her head.  
“So, uh… he’s new.” She turns back to the others, cuts Caleb out, and he shrinks away a little at her brusque nature. Still, the attention is off of him, he’s fine with this.  
“Now, Beau, don’t be fuckin’ rude. Y’ were nice t’ me when I arrived, what’s the difference here? Hey, Caleb, I’m Fjord.” The half-orc chastises Beau with a frown, and turns to Caleb as it evaporates, leans over to offer him a handshake. “Nice t’ meet y’, Nott’s told us a lot in the short time we’ve known one another.”  
“O-Oh?” Caleb looks at Nott, panic licking like flames in his eyes as he leans out and shakes Fjord’s hand loosely. “What-”  
“Nothing bad.” Nott placates, waving, “Just- just that you are very smart, and looking into the research of magic.”  
“Oh?” Fjord leans back, interest apparently piqued, “Didn’t tell me that bit, actually, Nott. Are y’ enrollin’ in the Academy?”  
Caleb shifts uncomfortably.  
“I, hm. I was in, the main, the main Academy, once. It was not the most… pleasant, of experiences, to say as little as I can.”  
“Th’ local Academy here’s run by the Cobalt Soul.” Fjord offers, and looks to Beau, “We got a student of the monks there, I’m sure _she_ could get y’ name on the enrollment list.”  
Caleb follows his gaze to Beau, who pretends that she wasn’t just staring at him intently.  
“I _could_ , theoretically. But one of you will have to make it worth the effort to sweet talk Dairon.”  
“You can sweet talk?” Nott asks, incredulous, and both Fjord and Jester break into peals of laughter.  
“Dairon is Beau’s mentor.” A new voice from the hall, a hulking shadow of a long-haired, pale person comes into view, “As long as she does as she’s told, that’s her sweet talk.”  
“We don’t talk about Dairon outside’a the Academy, Yasha.” Beau warns, and Caleb can’t quite tell if it’s a joke or not. Yasha, the tall, hulking shadow, comes to the single chair and picks up the bag to sit down.  
“Thank you for saving my seat, Nott.” She directs to the goblin, who nods enthusiastically as a reply.  
“Is Molly comin’ over?” Fjord leans forward in his seat, “Ain’t seen him in a couple days. Academia calls, y’know.”  
Yasha shrugs widely,  
“I don’t have any knowledge of Molly’s inner workings.” She says, lies through her teeth, “He’ll be around for the first day, at least.”  
“Caleb,” Nott cuts through, “This is Yasha. She’s our _neighbour_ and she’s very big.”  
There’s a reverent fear behind that, and it makes Yasha chuckle a little.  
“I live with Mollymauk.” She turns to explain to Caleb, “I don’t _think_ Nott will have met him yet, he’s only left the apartment after three in the morning.”  
“Ooh, new people talking about me!” A languid, if excitable voice from the hall, Caleb’s head whips around. Leaning idly against the wall is another tiefling.  
  
Another _gorgeous_ tiefling.  
  
A fighter, clearly, by nature, Caleb would take a wild guess at either a blood magic fighter, or a deeply troubled dual-wielder with a penchant for self-punishment. The amount of neat, obviously self-inflicted scars that riddle his lavender skin makes those the only two options. Caleb watches him push off of the wall in awe, he runs his fingers through the long lock of fringe tumbling over his face.  
Caleb catches a quick snap of a tattoo curling up his neck before he’s suddenly close, and sitting on the arm of the chair.  
“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends,” he holds his hand out to Caleb, long, slender fingers and one or two rings, “Charmed.”  
Caleb shakes, still stunned, he doesn’t even make words. Mollymauk hums in interest,  
“Cat got your tongue? Or are you mute?”  
“C-cat.” Caleb stutters out, his other hand clicks to summon Frumpkin to his lap, “Sorry. Caleb.”  
“Ah, a _cat_ !” Molly leans down as he releases Caleb’s hand, his own hover over Frumpkin’s striped orange fur, “Can I stroke him?”  
“Feel free.” Caleb invites, mentally commands Frumpkin to lick at Molly’s fingers. Molly makes very pretty excited noises when he does, and Caleb settles into it as a good decision.  
It takes Molly a few minutes of idle chatter between the others before he realises and gives a soft _oh_ , turns away from Caleb and Frumpkin to Nott, instead. Caleb feels his absence, as he slips off of the arm of the chair to go to her. Jester makes grabby hands silently for Frumpkin, and Caleb smiles a little, distracted, to send him over.  
Beau sidles closer to him.  
“Got off kinda rocky there, me an’ you.” She says, low, and Caleb looks to her from the corner of his eye.  
“We did not really start at all, if you are worried.”  
“Nah. Not worried.” Beau takes a swig of whatever she’s drinking. It’s probably iced tea, maybe with a shot of vodka, at a rough guess. “Just, y’know… gonna be hanging out together a lot. Puttin’ myself in the firin’ range for the Academy for you. Wanna get t’ know what I’m fightin’ for.”  
Caleb turns so that he can eye her.  
“Is there- does- the library, does it happen to have a, a- fuck.” He catches his mistake at Beau’s smirk over the top of her glass, and flails a second longer before Beau shoves her shoulder against his.  
“Chill. Yeah, the Academy has a library, usually only for the monk students but… uh… I can get y’ in, if you’re a student of the Academy. You’ll just have to keep me with you.”  
Caleb thinks it over in silence as Molly and Nott debate about how nice Yasha is, with plenty of soft chuckles from the woman herself. He catches Beau looking over in adoration from the corner of his eye, but says nothing about it.  
“I… do not know you well enough, yet, to make such a decision. I am interested, I think, in… enrolling. But as for a personal relationship…”  
“No, I get it.” Beau shrugs, “‘s been, what? Two hours?”  
“That long?” Caleb shoots a look outside and judges the angle of the shadows. Beau is right. How long had Mollymauk spent fussing Frumpkin?  
“Yeah, well, y’ got about a month before the Academy classes start up again for the year, an’ I see Dairon uhh… weekly. So you got three weeks t’ decide.”  
She drains the end of her glass and stands up,  
“I hope you like socialising,” she tells him, her wicked smirk tells her she knows he does not, “‘Cause Jester _loves_ it. We’re goin’ to the arcade tomorrow, panderin’ to her gambling addiction.”  
“It is _not_ an addiction!” Jester pipes up, drawn from lounging over Fjord, “It’s- I like it!”  
Beau laughs as she makes her way through to the kitchen, her loud voice carrying through over the sound of running water.  
“Whatever, yo, just invitin’ Caleb along.”  
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Jester’s tail twitches and waves, puppyish, “You can really learn to like us!”  
“Is- hm. Mollymauk, Yasha, will you be- be- attending?”  
Yasha shrugs, looks to Molly,  
“I’ll go where you go.” She tells him, and he taps his chin with a finger as he thinks. Nott leans past him toward Yasha,  
“Beau is coming.” she tries, eyebrows raised, and Yasha scratches her arm awkwardly.  
“Yes, I know.”  
“I’m going!” Jester chips in helpfully, draped over Fjord. To his part, Fjord looks _very_ uncomfortable at his.  
Yasha looks from Nott to Molly to Jester, and sighs,  
“I suppose I can make the time.” with a small smile and the lightest dusting of pink, still stark on such pale cheeks. Jester beams,  
“Good! It’s been a while since you spent time with us!” Jester chirrups, leaning up to Beau as she comes back with two glasses. One of her vodka iced tea mix, which she sips silently, and one of… milk. This, she hands to Jester.  
“What about you, Molly?” Nott asks, drawing Caleb’s attention back to the lavender tiefling. He smiles, the saccharine sweet smile of a showman, and it sends a ripple of discomfort down Caleb’s spine.  
“Maybe.” He answers, tone mysterious, cryptic, “There’s factors that’ll influence my decision, I’m sure.”  
His eyes drift to Caleb, his eyebrows raise, and the showman smile changes to something more curious and genuine. Caleb wilts away under his scrutiny, attention turns to Frumpkin, who flits off of Jester’s lap back to Caleb’s.  
“Are you bringing your cat?”  
When did Molly step in? He crouches now in front of Caleb, tickling the cat’s chin.  
Caleb looks from his cat to Nott, who nods enthusiastically, and Caleb sighs as he lets his shoulders drop.  
“Yes. Fine. Frumpkin and I will join you.”  
There’s a couple of cheers, Nott and Jester, and a pleased hum from Beau. Fjord smiles to him,  
“Good, I’m glad y’ comin’ along. We’re all pretty close friends on this floor, y’know? Y’ can’t escape Jester’s friendship tentacles.”  
“Fjord is the one with the tentacles.” Jester assures seriously, eyes wide, and both Beau and Fjord choke and splutter, “He makes _very_ good tentacles. Very good.”  
“Oh yeah?” Beau teases her, “Would you know?”  
“As a matter of fact, I would!” Jester pulls her shoulders back as she sits up, proud, “I was there when he first cast the spell!”  
“ _Jester_ .” Fjord hisses “Ess-lay of the arlock-way.”  
She looks at him, frowns in confusion,  
“What?”  
“I do not mind, Fjord, please do not worry.” Caleb waves for him, “Where your magical abilities come from, it does not concern me. I am more preoccupied with whether or not you are going to kill me in my sleep.”  
“I worry about that too.” Nott chips in helpfully, and the other inhabitants share concerned looks,  
“Are you two okay?”  
Nott shrugs, Caleb gives a borderline manic laugh,  
“Probably.” Nott answers.  
“No.” Caleb layers over the top.  
  
There’s silence in the room for too fucking long, and it’s Molly that initiates the breaking. He moves his hand, very carefully, from Frumpkin’s chin to Caleb’s knee and lays just the barest touch against him. When Caleb meets his eyes in shock, Molly looks away, just a short distance, and slow blinks.  
  
_‘He’s treating me like a cat.’_ Caleb thinks to himself in dull amusement, and to a degree, he does relax.  
“So where is the arcade? I am unfamiliar with the roads, though once we walk them a time or two…”  
“Caleb has an _excellent_ memory.” Nott preens as though the skills are her own, “He can tell the time just by looking at the sun-”  
“Actually, I have learned to track it in my subconscious, now.” Caleb tells her, “So I just… know.”  
“How exact can y’ get?” Fjord leans in,  
“It is about nine thirty.” Caleb replies, only a split second of pause. Fjord checks the clock, on the wall behind Caleb.  
“Nine thirty-eight. Pretty fuckin’ close.” he comments, to shocked and impressed murmurs. Molly stretches up and away from Caleb, steps back.  
“Well, I know it’s early, but I haven’t _actually_ slept in… um… Fjord, dear, what day is it?”  
Fjord looks at him with horror on his face.  
“It’s thursday, Molly. How the fuck are you still standin’?”  
“Ah, it’s only been three days!” Molly seems chirpy despite the way he’s swaying, and Yasha pushes her face into her palm.  
“Is that where my caramel coffee went?”  
Molly clicks as he points to her,  
“Yes! Sorry, I owe you another pot, I made… death.”  
“Death?” It’s Caleb’s question, and Molly beams as he turns,  
“Welcome to Soltryce Academy! During exam season, students don’t sleep, and instead take shots of coffee that are… three? Tablespoons of instant in an inch of water. If you’re weak, like me, you add sugar or syrup to it.”  
Molly mimes knocking back a shot, and Caleb chuckles as he puts that in his mental notebook.  
“Three nights of no sleep will mess with your immune system, Mollymauk- just a moment.”  
He remembers, quite suddenly, the tiny wooden box of precious teabags in the bottom of his luggage and rushes from the room to find it and dig out the lavender, oat, and chamomile blend that he uses during particularly fierce bouts of insomnia.  
When he hands a bag to Molly, the tiefling seems surprised,  
“I used to use this too.” He tells Caleb with a smile that doesn’t quite fit the look in his eyes, “There are some problems it’s quite adept at solving, am I right?”  
Caleb knows he doesn’t mean the insomnia itself. Rather, the leadup to. He doesn’t know _how_ Molly knows, just that he does, and he nods shallowly.  
Molly leans in, gently, and kisses Caleb’s forehead. Apologises when Caleb freezes up.  
“Sorry. Noted, I’ll ask before I touch you.”  
“That- I- yes. Thank you, that would be...good.” Caleb rambles, and Molly’s smile now is genuine and soft.  
“Thank you.” He waves the teabag, “I’m going to take this and then collapse. I suggest the rest of you do the same!”  
He waves as he leaves, and the others slowly filter out a few minutes later, leaving just Caleb and Nott alone in the flat. It’s dark outside, now.  
“I’m glad you’re here, Caleb.” Nott says, quietly, from her fold in the chair, “I’ll see you in the morning. Do you want me to wake you?”  
“If I am not already awake.” Caleb agrees, smiling, nodding, “Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“For…” he gestures at the walls, at the door, “Everything.”  
“You’re my _friend,_ Caleb.” Nott tells him as she makes a beeline for her bedroom, “I’ll try to do anything for you. Now, goodnight.”  
He tries to say it back, but the door to her room is already closed and he’s forced to retire to his own. It has been a hell of a day. But nice. The new friends seem nice.  
Caleb may not trust _them_ , but he trusts _that_.


	2. Core Plot Device

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's arcade time for Caleb and the crew.

Caleb hasn’t slept so well in… years. Over a decade, he thinks. And there’s a separation of ten years between the person he was then and the person he is now, though he wishes he could cut the two apart, sometimes.  
The fold in his timeline doesn’t bother him tonight, though, and when Nott creeps into his room gone ten in the morning, he’s splayed face-down across his bed and completely out.  
Nott flits around for a while, trying to figure out the best way to wake him. She knows parts of his past, after all, and throws _actually touching him_ out of the window pretty fast.  
Eventually, she goes to Frumpkin instead, scratches his head gently until he wakes up and gives a soft _mrrw_.  
“If _you_ wake Caleb up, he probably won’t panic as much.” She tells Frumpkin, proud of herself, picks him up and turns to put him down on the end of Caleb’s bed in a heap of cat.  
She’s somewhat grateful that Frumpkin is a familiar, rather than a regular cat, because it means that he understands the little requests. And he picks his way carefully up over Caleb’s body to flump down onto his chest.  
“Oof!” is the first indicator that Caleb is awake, “Have you gotten heavier?”  
Nott, flat to the wall to avoid startling Caleb, watches as he lifts a hand to scratch affectionately at his ears.  
“What time are we leaving again, Nott?”  
Oh, he knows she’s there. That’s interesting.  
She steps away from the wall and into clear line of sight,  
“We’re meeting at eleven.” She tells him, trying to keep the guilt at being caught in his room out of her voice and, apparently, failing.  
Caleb sits up, with some difficulty, dislodging Frumpkin as he does so.  
“So about half an hour?”  
“Did I leave you enough time? I’m sorry, I just- you, you told me you don’t sleep very well and I thought, you might need it-”  
Caleb scoots across his bed until he can lean over and pat his fingertips to her wrist,  
“Don’t fret so much, you know that there are liberties you can take with me. If I have a problem, I will tell you, and until I do that, you can assume that I don’t have a problem.”  
His smile is genuine even if his words are not the smoothest that he thinks they could be. Nott gets the general message, though, lets the tension in her shoulders fall away.  
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get up.” She smiles, nods, leaves the room and closes the door behind her with a soft click.

Caleb gets out of bed.

Only halfway through digging his belongings out and putting them into drawers does he realise the severe _lack_ of clothes that he has- well, of course, he hasn’t had a home since he… he hasn’t had a place to live, since then, at least. Only so far that stolen change and quick thinking can get you.  
None of his clothes are exactly _clean_ either, he hadn’t expected to be leaving again so soon, but he digs out the cleanest he can find. Black shirt, grey pants, all of his colours are the same because they’re the least conspicuous and he wants to blend into the background, badly. Only the one coat, though, he looks out of the window of his room to check the weather and grimaces. The late autumn is not kind, and although the rain appears to be a few hours away, it’s in the air, and the day outside looks cold.  
Well, he supposes, he’s naturally warm from all of the magic in him. He doesn’t want to embarrass his new friends, he shouldn’t need to cast any spells, his books will be safer here than anywhere else, so he decides he’ll leave the coat and his holsters exactly where they are.  
Or maybe under his bed a little.  
He does, however, read up on the glyphs and incantations and movements for Shield. It’s a spell that could always come in helpful, he thinks.  
When he comes out into the main room, there’s a strong smell of coffee, and two cups on the little table in the middle of the room. No Nott, though it looks like she’s been out very recently.  
Caleb makes his way cautiously to the table to read whatever’s scribbled on the mugs in some kind of pen, he thinks?  
He sits down in shock and appreciation to find his name. On the top of one mug, with a cat drawn underneath, in a style that is certainly not Nott’s work.  
“Jester.” Nott clarifies as she comes in from the kitchen with a plate, “She’s very good at drawing. I told her you like cats, and now everything has cats.”  
Caleb chuckles, but still does not touch, he hasn’t been given the permission to touch. Nott sets the plate down, it has a pile of various cookies and baked goods and- to Caleb’s amusement- donuts.  
“You can eat.” Nott tells him gently, picking up her own cup- ‘Nott’ scrawled across the top- and taking a cookie from her plate, “The cup has your name on, Caleb.”  
He’s still slow and cautious as he gives in, though, the coffee is hot and perhaps definitely a great deal sweeter than he usually drinks it, but he finds that it’s still pleasant. Perhaps more so, with whatever sugar replacement Nott uses.  
“Thank you.” He tells her after the first sip, and she smiles a little smugly as she sits back in her chair, far too big for her,  
“You’re my friend.” The tone is soft, “I’ll try to do anything for you.”

 

“So, Nott, what are- are the group… dynamics. I feel as though there is an established bond, I am not sure if I will fit in.” Caleb trails Nott up the hallway on their way out, Frumpkin left behind to sleep the day away in a sunbeam. Nott laughs a little,  
“Jester will fit you in.” She assures, “And she’s probably, better to talk to. Or Beau. About this. I’ve only been here a couple of days.”  
Ah, Caleb had forgotten about that. With all of the friendly nature and simply walking into their apartment, it had seemed as though Nott and the others had been friends for years. Longer than Caleb had.  
“I will- I will talk to Beauregard.” He slips out of the door as she holds it open, just in time to catch the door _beside_ theirs swinging open, and almost walk into Yasha.  
“Oh. Morning, Caleb.” She steps surprisingly lightly around him, “How are you today?”  
“I slept well.” Caleb edges around the true answer of _nervous_ , but he’s sure Yasha picks up on his evasion by the way that her eyes narrow. If she does, she doesn’t mention it, just smiles and nods,  
“I’m glad you’re coming with us.” And moves past, and if she has any idea of how much that hits Caleb in the heart, it doesn’t show on her. He watches her step away, shockingly light-footed for someone so large, and Nott follows.  
There’s a hand waving by his face,  
“Don’t mean to be rude, Caleb, didn’t want to shove you. You’re sort of in my doorway.”  
Mollymauk. Caleb stumbles over an apology as he steps away, and Molly chuckles as he locks the door to the flat, back to Caleb,  
“Don’t worry about it, I know Yasha. Takes your breath away, hm?”  
And Caleb’s stuttered apology slips into stuttered denial, Molly rolls his eyes. Or Caleb thinks he does.  
“I’m teasing you.” He assures, “But come on, catch up.”  
He scoots around Caleb and moves on, wearing now an extravagant coat, covered in embroidery of religious iconography, alchemical symbols, and general patterns. It billows behind him as he moves with a confident step, and Caleb has to jog to keep the coat in his sights. It’s interesting. He hopes to study it one day.

Caleb looks over their little group as they convene in the main hall, where Caleb had first met Jester the day before. The little blue tiefling waves excitedly as he comes into view, and Nott visibly relaxes. Caleb smiles a little as he realises that she’d most likely though she’d lost him.  
“Where did you go? You were right behind me…”  
“I got, hm.” Caleb looks quickly to Mollymauk, slinking an arm around Fjord’s shoulders, “Distracted. By our neighbours.”  
“By Molly, you mean.” Yasha moves _too damn quietly_ , she comes up on Caleb’s other side and makes him jump, “He has a penchant for capturing attention. What was it this time. Magic trick? Talking about your cat?”  
Caleb does smile at that, but shakes his head,  
“I was apologising for getting in the way, that is all. Is Beauregard here?” He straightens up to look around, but doesn’t catch sight of her in the small crowd, no bright cobalt blue bows.  
“She’s always ‘fashionably late’ as Jester puts it. I think she just sleeps in.” Yasha rolls her eyes, “She will meet us there. Jester!” The last to the tiefling, currently battling Molly for Fjord’s attention, “Time to go.”  
Jester nods as she slips down from her place, half climbing up onto Fjord, and straightens out her dress. Caleb fidgets, anxiously, finding that he would really rather Beau was here. Odd, considering her brash personality, not one he usually gets along with. Perhaps it’s how useful she is to him?  
He convinces himself that’s it as Jester leads the group down the stairs.

 

The arcade is a lot of bright, flashy lights and noise and the moment that Caleb walks in, he’s _very uncomfortable_. He takes careful account of the amount of mental energy he has, clocks it up into a percentage, and decides that if it falls below twenty-five percent, he’ll leave. Keep himself safe. He discusses this quietly with Nott at the back of the group as the others pool together and barter with one another for where to go first.  
Beau rocks up just as they decide the slot machines should be stop number one, drops in next to Caleb with her hands in the pockets of her jacket.  
What can only be described as _Cobalt Soul Varsity_ , really, stripes and logos and a _lot_ of blue. Well, the monks seem to be the pride of the Academy here. He supposes it makes sense.  
“Hey.” She greets, with that jerk of her chin as she steps up beside him. “How’s it goin’?”  
Caleb’s eyes dart around, and before he can open his mouth to reply, Beau is nodding.  
“Ah. One of _those_ types, are ya?”  
The way she says _those_ shocks Caleb. It’s not disgust, or anger, or anything negative, and so it’s not something he’s used to. It’s just an emphasis, like she can’t find the right word, or doesn’t want to label him as something. It’s a stand in for sensory overload.  
“I- I- _Ja_ , too many lights and sounds-”  
“Really. Caleb. You don’t need to explain, an’ frankly I’d rather you _didn’t_. I wanna gamble. Stay with me, though?”  
The last bit, it keeps her brusque tone but there’s an overlay to it now, of sincerity.  
“I have some… questions, for you, I think, so I will not be going far.”  
“Good.” Beau says, wandering off after the others, “Good.”

 

Beau gets a couple of small payouts, keeping herself in careful control and spending a set amount of money that she keeps in her left hand, uses the right to play and collect, and ends up three gold and twelve silver richer than she came in. Caleb knows. He’s been counting, slumped against the machine with a little leaflet about gambling addiction that Beau had handed him, just to keep him from fidgeting.  
Beau pushes away from the machine and stretches, looks at Caleb, nose almost buried in the leaflet, and waits for him to finish the page and look almost at her face,  
“How y’ doin?”  
“Not terrible.” Caleb answers truthfully. The booklet has helped to block out the sensations of the arcade, all of them, including Jester’s occasional whoop or groan as she moves to the casino section and sets up at the blackjack table.  
Mollymauk has, apparently, slunk over to them, and is now playing the machine three up from Beau. Caleb can see him looking at them out of the corner of his eye, based purely on the tilt of his head, since… he doesn’t have irises. Oh, this is going to be very _very_ annoying; he’ll have to watch Molly carefully to know if the tiefling is staring at him. For now, though, it seems to be Beau who has his attention.  
“You have a fan.” Caleb tells her in a low voice, and watches her face split into a grin as she turns and flags Molly off, double middle fingers.  
“I got me a _spy_ now, Molly, you can’t give me dirty looks behind my back any more.”  
“Ah, fuck you.” Molly replies, “Caleb! How could you betray me like this?”  
His eyes are wide and his face drawn into a frown, and Caleb jolts,  
“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”  
“Gods a-fuckin’-bove, Molly.” Beau curses him, and turns back to Caleb, “He’s yankin’ your chain, Caleb.”  
“Yes,” Molly affirms, stands from the machine to make his way over, “Sorry, Caleb. Used to fucking with Jester, I think, are you okay?”  
He was. Until this exchange. And now the lights are growing brighter, the colours growing more vivid and sickening, the noise around him gets louder.  
“No. Look at him, ‘course he isn’t okay! Fuckin’, alright, Caleb, we’re gonna get you outta here.”  
“It’s fine.” Molly soothes, puts a hand on Beau’s shoulder, “I’m exhausted anyway, I’ll take him back to the flat. Do you have a key, Caleb?”  
Caleb nods a fraction too hard and watches Beau and Molly exchange concerned looks.  
“Is that alright?” Beau leans just a little closer for the quiet of it, closing Molly out, and Caleb takes a deep, shaking breath,  
“ _Ja_ , I would- I would prefer to go back, I think. Please apologise to Jester for me.”  
Beau steps back to open up Caleb’s space and waves,  
“I will, but she won’t care. She’ll be over t’ check on you later, bets.”  
“I’ll give you a silver on that.” Molly says over his shoulder as she heads away, and Beau waves two fingers at him without a response. She disappears around a corner, and Molly turns back to Caleb, lifts an arm in offering,  
“D’you want to hang on?”  
Caleb shakes his head. Maybe if it had been Nott. Maybe if it had been Beau.  
He likes Beau.  
“That’s fine, come on then.” A gentle smile and he heads off, checking over his shoulder occasionally to ensure his pace is matched and that Caleb is still… well, not okay, but functional. The best he could hope for.  
As they get out into the street, Molly watches Caleb shiver in the cold and light drizzle threatening to become a downpour.  
“You didn’t bring a coat?”  
“I only own the one.” Caleb smiles distantly, “I do not have a lot of clothes, and my coat is very dirty.”  
Molly hums as they make their way along the street in the light rain, Caleb falls into step with him. And the heavens _open_ , the drizzle becomes a raging torrent of rain that makes Caleb hiss angrily.  
There’s some shuffling, and then a _fwoosh_ as Molly produces and puts up an umbrella from an inside pocket in one fluid motion. He offers it to Caleb.  
“Your coat does not have a hood.” Caleb points out, and Molly grins brilliantly,  
“Doesn’t matter to me.”  
Caleb hovers as they walk, but still doesn’t take the umbrella.  
“Look.” Molly says, gives a sigh, and Caleb flinches from the tone, his step falters. Molly stops them both in the middle of the street and holds the umbrella angled over Caleb’s head.  
“If you’re comfortable sharing, that’s fine. We can do that! But if you’re not, and I don’t think you are, then take the umbrella.”  
Caleb stares for a moment. Rain is dripping down the side of Molly’s face, now, slowly. But his expression is one of patience. Care. It runs up Caleb’s spine uncomfortably, like trailing fingers- what motivation does Molly have for this? Why is he doing this for _Caleb_ of all people?  
He does have to admit that it’s nice. Being out of the rain. Having someone be kind to him.  
He takes the umbrella.  
“We’re making a quick stop on the way, if you can manage it?” Molly takes off walking again as soon as Caleb looses the umbrella from his grip, “I’d like to spend some of my winnings.”  
“As long as it is not too bright or gaudy,” Caleb eyes Molly’s coat deliberately as he says this, “I am sure I will be fine. I’ve recovered some since we left.”  
“Perfect.” Molly chirrups.  
They’re quiet for two streets. As a shop sign swims into view, Molly turns fractionally, his long ponytail and single strand of fringe both plastered to him in the rain.  
“Caleb?”  
“Hm?”  
“What’s your favourite colour?”  
He thinks about it for only a second. He has a go-to for this answer.  
“Orange.”  
This must startle Molly, he jolts a little, and then nods.  
“That’s fair. In here, c’mon, mind the umbrella.”  
They turn into the doorway of what looks to be a general store, and then into an entrance lobby. Caleb puts the umbrella down and leans out of the door to shake it a little, leans it up against a wall beside a couple of other umbrellas, as seems to be the etiquette.  
“Quick stop before the stop.” Molly smiles apologetically as he ducks into the closest doorway, motions to Caleb to stay.  
It’s about thirty seconds before he reappears, completely dry, and grins at Caleb’s shock.  
“Prestidigitation.” Caleb says softly, without even realising he’s speaking, and Molly nods,  
“Happen to be friends with the owner… owners? Of this establishment.”  
He makes off for the furthest door, and Caleb notices, finally, that the ‘general store’ is actually split into four smaller stores, each selling different things. Molly turns into the doorway of what appears to be a clothing store.  
“Where are we, anyway?” Caleb asks, he hasn’t been paying attention, too caught up in the sound of the rain seeping away his overload. It’s odd that something so all-encompassing can help to calm the rage of his mental wounds, but help it does.  
“The Invulnerable Vagrant!” Molly replies, chipper, hasn’t noticed Caleb shrinking into his dirty clothes, “You can buy almost anything here, and the owner...s? Are nice too.”  
He waves as he speaks, to a Firbolg behind a desk, a small, distracted smile on his face as he reads through a book.  
“Afternoon, Mollymauk. Out early?”  
“Going home.” Molly answers pleasantly, flicking through a rack of sweaters, “So Caleb, what size do you wear?”  
Caleb chokes on air as all the little pieces crash in together and throw all rational thought _straight_ out of his mind.  
“You- you do not need to spend _money_ on me, Mollymauk, I- I’m fine, everything-”  
Molly shushes him,  
“I’ll do it anyway. You can ask any of the others, this is my favourite thing to drop cash on! I would rather you help me choose, because I know that you’ll like what we buy, rather than me trying to pick out for you. And I don’t know you well enough just yet to know what you’ll like.”  
Caleb shrinks in on himself, and Molly turns from the sweaters to him,  
“How about a compromise? _One_ item of clothing. Anything you need. You let me know, and I’ll buy it, and then we’ll go home. Okay?”  
Caleb is still not a fan, he thinks, but he feels that Molly will most likely do worse if he doesn’t agree, like buy him a whole new wardrobe.  
“Okay.” He concedes, and Molly’s smile brightens.  
They spend a couple of minutes trawling through the shop before Caleb tugs gently at Molly’s cuff, not looking at him, just staring at a very pretty, simple brown cloak, with little runes embroidered at the hem.  
“You want that?” Molly asks him, like talking to an excited child, and Caleb just nods. Awkwardly. He doesn’t deserve these things, doesn’t deserve such niceness, but Molly unhooks the cloak anyway and tells Caleb to stay the fuck put whilst he buys it.  
Caleb gets the distinct feeling that Molly doesn’t want him knowing how much he’s spending on the cloak, and he averts his eyes to respect this, waits for Molly to come back.  
There’s the feeling of soft fabric on him, Molly drapes the cloak carefully around his shoulders, takes care to avoid touching him.  
“You doing alright?” There’s a twinge to his words that Caleb can’t place, but he finds himself nodding anyway.  
“Ready to go?”  
“ _Ja_ , I need a cup of coffee, and Nott has some very pleasant kind in her kitchen.”  
“Your kitchen.” Molly corrects as he begins to leave, “or _our_ kitchen, you would say.”  
Caleb blinks as this trickles through his mind.  
“ _Our_ kitchen.” He says. It sounds heavy and odd on his tongue, but sends a spark of thrill through him, so he tries again. “ _Our_ kitchen.”  
Molly picks their umbrella from the wall and hands it over to him.  
“There you go. You got it.”  
“ _Our_ kitchen.” Caleb says again, his tone almost reverent as they step into the rain and Molly has to lean over and put the umbrella up, mumbling apologies as he’s forced to lay a hand over Caleb’s. But Caleb doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react, just follows, dream-like, as Molly leads the way back to the apartment complex. And up the stairs. And then all too soon, not soon enough, they’re in front of their doors and Molly is unlocking his,  
“Are you okay from here?” Molly asks, and Caleb’s world refocuses at dizzying speed, like the crack of a whip, and he jumps in place.  
“ _Ja_ ,” He answers before he can think of words for the truth, “I will be fine. Thank you, Mollymauk.”  
Molly gives him a smile, and it’s so tired and wilted that Caleb wonders how he hadn’t seen this before.  
“Come over anytime, Caleb. Door’s always open, as long as one of us is awake. Yasha won’t mind, either, she likes you.”  
And he disappears in before Caleb can reply, which is just fine, because Caleb doesn’t think he _could_ reply.  
Alright.  
Maybe he likes Mollymauk, too.


	3. Back, Forward, Back

Nott finds Caleb curled up on the sofa when she comes back, the light only just fading from the sky and dousing the room in orange light. He wakes when the door opens, doesn’t think he could sleep through the chattering even if he hadn’t, and manages to pull himself upright just in time for Fjord to flump down on the couch beside him, a short distance between them. On the other couch, he watches Beau lean back and settle herself across Jester’s lap. Jester looks as though she would be comfortable to lie on, if that was something Caleb could do without panicking. Maybe he’d be able to, one day.  
They seem nice.   
“Hey, Caleb.” Fjord greets, and holds out a cup, a paper-plastic takeaway from one of the nearby popular coffee shops, “Nott said y’ like, uh… I don’t remember, but she ordered, an’ it’s coffee.”   
Caleb takes it tentatively, he’s not happy about all of these gifts but he has no real choice now that it’s been purchased.   
“Nice cloak.” Beau chips from Jester’s thighs, “Where’d y’ get it?”   
“Oh, I recognise that!” Jester leans forward, squishes Beau a little as she does, “That’s from Pumat’s place!”   
“Oh, shit, yeah,” Fjord bows over the hem to inspect it, “Molly was lookin’ at this a couple weeks ago.”   
“You don’t have any money.” Nott says, slowly, and the room falls to silence for a second.   
“He got you, huh?” Beau’s chin tilts up best she can from her place, and Caleb panics until he reads the genuine smile on her face, “Molly got you.”   
“G-Got me?”   
“Molly _really_ likes to buy things for other people, you’re lucky to get away with just a cloak!” Jester chirps, and Caleb finds himself flooded with relief that Molly hadn’t been lying to manipulate him. And, to some degree, that he’d respected Caleb’s discomfort.   
“ _Ja_ , he threatened to buy more for me, when he learned I do not have a lot of clothes.”   
There’s a scattering of laughter, and Fjord nods,   
“That’s our Molly. Not good at takin’ no for an answer when it comes to givin’ gifts, is that one.”   
Caleb realises that he never got to ask Beau the things he’d wanted to. And opens his mouth to ask them now, but there’s _three of them_ and it sticks in his throat, so he snaps his mouth closed again and shakes his head.   
“He is very generous.” He manages, concedes if anything, “I feel that- that you all are, nice, good people, and good neighbours.”   
“We _are_.” Jester insists with a pleased trill to her voice, “And you seem nice too! Even though, you could _probably_ have done with that new wardrobe.”   
“Jester!” Fjord chastises.   
“And a bath.”   
Caleb flushes in embarrassment and drops his eyes, he hears more than sees Beau smack Jester’s forehead with the back of her hand.   
“I- I plan on, taking a shower in the morning, if that helps your opinion of me.”   
“It’s there right now!” Jester protests, “You can go take a shower!”   
Caleb shuffles awkwardly in his seat, and Fjord hovers a hand over his arm, but does not touch.   
“If there’s too many of us for y’ t’ be comfortable, Caleb, that’s fine. You can ask us t’ leave if y’ want.”   
“No,” Caleb shakes his head in protest and pushes his arm up into Fjord’s grip, shocking them both, “I don’t want you to leave. I would, I would _feel bad_ , and I am enjoying your company.”   
“We should be leavin’ soon anyway, to be fair.” Beau sighs and sits up, “I gotta see Dairon in the mornin’ after all. Thought any more about the Academy, Caleb?”   
Caleb worries his lip as he thinks about it.   
“Next week.” He assures, “Next week, I will have an answer.”   
“Y’ don’t gotta answer so fast.” Fjord soothes him, “Y’ got a couple of weeks before we’re back, there ain’t a rush t’ press you for answers.”   
“Lemme know in advance, though, if I do everythin’ Dairon asks me to, I gotta psyche myself up for like, three days ahead of time. She’s _rough_.”   
“That’s what she said.” Jester giggles from behind her, and Beau doesn’t even look as she swats at Jester’s forehead again. There’s the soft slap of skin hitting skin, and Beau stands from the couch,   
“Best be gettin’ home. See y’ tomorrow.”   
“Thank you for having us, Nott!” Jester stands behind her, gives the goblin a quick hug on her way out, and then there’s quiet as it’s left to Fjord, Caleb, and Nott.   
“I can leave too, if y’ want me to?” Fjord offers, and Nott is the one to answer this time,   
“No, you can stay! I know you live alone, does that not get lonely?”   
“ _Alone_ is debatable, the amount o’ times I walk into the livin’ room an’ find Beau or Jester asleep on my chair ‘cause of some dumb argument they’ve had…” He shakes his head, “But I appreciate that, Nott, thank you. I’ll stick around a couple more minutes, then, wait ‘til we all finish our drinks.”   
He lifts his coffee in a _cheers_ gesture, and both Nott and Caleb mimic him. They fall back to quiet as they sip, a comfortable, amicable silence that has Caleb deciding that he quite likes Fjord, too.   
It’s hard not to _like_ Fjord, with a voice like _that_ and cheekbones that perfect.   
With any luck, though, that won’t be a problem. It’s not Caleb’s first time at the aesthetic crush rodeo, he’s learned to handle this by now.   
He falls asleep that night with his new cloak spread over his desk.

 

He gets up, he thinks, before Nott does the next morning and takes a _fucking shower_.  
Gods above and below, it’s the most refreshing thing he’s ever experienced.   
Caleb has kept himself dirty and rough at the edges deliberately for so long, hiding himself under layers of filth to slip under the radar, and partially, that’s because he didn’t _have_ a shower he could use. Or a bath. And the lakes were cold.   
But this water is warm, he keeps it only there, doesn’t let it get hot as he rubs the dirt from his skin and, guiltily, borrows a dollop of Nott’s shampoo to rinse his hair out. Though, from what he knows about her and the looks of the small collection she already has, she won’t miss the little globule. Nott isn’t a fan of water, tends more to wash her hair over the side of the sink or the bathtub and wipe herself down otherwise. Thorough, yes, but doesn’t like to submerge herself, or have it shower down on her.   
Plus, there’s easily ten, if not fifteen bottles just… there. And Caleb has picked- he gives it a sniff- something floral. A translucent, glimmering purple, he sniffs again and decides that it’s lavender, and looks at the bottle and decides it was a gift from Mollymauk. There’s little gold swirls all along the purple of the bottle, the label is fancy black and white, it screams _Mollymauk_ so loud it could be an earthquake in the bathroom. Even in the space of 36 hours, Caleb has this down as Molly’s style.   
  
He comes out of the shower in a towel as Nott emerges from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes and fully dressed. She takes a second in the hall to stop and sniff and turn in Caleb’s direction.   
“You used the Molly shampoo?”   
“A-ah, _ja_ , I hope that is okay, it was the, the prettiest-”   
Nott laughs a little,   
“It’s fine, Caleb.” She tells him, gentle, but firm, “Just don’t throw away the bottle if you use it all.”   
“Is that your latest collection?” He talks to her as he makes his way into his room, she leans against the door jamb and looks away,   
“ _Yes_ , isn’t it great! I came here with three and I’ve been collecting since.”   
“You have only been here a week.” Caleb chuckles as he drapes his towel over his head and goes to his drawers for the few clothes he has, “Less than.”   
“Well, yes, but I mentioned it to Jester when she came over with donuts the first day, and…” Nott waves her hand in the direction of the bathroom, “It got around.”   
Caleb halts with his hand on the knob of the drawer,   
“I did not think you had met Mollymauk before I arrived.”   
“I hadn’t.” Nott grins, he sees it out of the corner of his eye at about the same time he notices someone has been in his room. The drawer is slightly ajar.   
“Nott.” He tries, quietly.   
“Yasha brought it over, I think Jester might have told him about my collection. He’s very nice, isn’t he?”   
“Nott.” Caleb says again, a little louder, stock still, “Someone has been in here.”   
She shuffles awkwardly as she looks over.   
“It’s not trapped, if you’re worried.” she tells him, and his head turns to her sharply. She’s still avoiding looking at him.   
He’s still stark-ass fucking naked.   
He’d almost forgotten in his worry.   
“See, Jester and I ran a little- uh- cards? And we had some spare coin and she felt bad so we got up early this morning and…”   
Caleb opens the drawer.   
“We got you some new clothes.”   
It’s not a _lot_ in general terms, only a couple of shirts, a sweater, some pants, and a ball of what Caleb assumes to be socks. They are almost _certainly_ a Jester-exclusive gift, judging by the pink and the floral pattern.   
“This is- Nott- this is too much, I cannot, possibly-”   
“Why?” Nott comes into his room, sits on the end of his bed, and fusses Frumpkin, “Is something wrong?”   
“Nott, you- you do not _know_ , the extent- the things that I have _done_ , Nott- I don’t- I don’t-”   
He’s not crying, but Gods damn, he’s close. He can almost hear the wheels in Nott’s head turning as she thinks and tries to comprehend in what universe someone wouldn’t want to take free gifts.   
“They’re already there, though. You can’t give them back now.”   
“I have to- to find, some way to repay- to repay you, and Jester.” Caleb stumbles over his words, but gives in, pulls out one of his new shirts. Nott hums as she thinks, Frumpkin pressing into the dulled tips of her claws as they scratch _just right_.   
“Jester has a, um. A café? You could help out there, she’s always looking for an accountant, and you’re _very_ good with money and counting.”   
Caleb thinks on this silently as he shrugs the shirt on. It’s a button up, not his usual style but he’s sure it will pay off in formal situations.   
Like work.   
Oh, Gods, he’s going to get a job.   
“I think,” He says carefully, “That will be a good idea. I will feel far less guilty. And what can I do for _you_?”   
Nott jumps at this a little, as though it’s unexpected, and she frowns,   
“You don’t need to do anything for me.”   
“You said that you _and_ Jester ran the con.” There’s a smile for the word as Nott flushes hard and averts her eyes, “So I owe this-” he gestures to the clothes he’s been slowly pulling on, “-to the both of you.”   
Nott clicks softly as she tries to find some way around this, but, knowing Caleb, she decides on a better option.   
“It was _mostly_ Jester,” She tells him, “But you can make lunch?”   
Caleb nods his affirmation, “I can stretch to that, I am sure. Now shoo, I will be out in a moment, you will need to show me where Jester lives.”   
“Okay!” Nott jumps from the bed with a final scritch to Frumpkin’s ears, and skitters out of the door. Caleb moves to his desk, runs his fingers over the cloak, and flinches when the static sparks of the arcane touch his fingers.   
The cloak is _magic_.   
So _that_ is why Molly didn’t want Caleb to know how much it cost, enchanted clothing is always ridiculously expensive, and now he feels just terrible.   
He’ll have to find a way to repay the favour to Mollymauk, somehow. Maybe he can make his _own_ enchanted cloak. He certainly has the arcane power, and he can sew, so all he would need to do is…

 

Nott comes into his room fifteen minutes later to find him poring over the golden embroidery thread of the runes, looking as though he’s so deep in thought he wouldn’t notice if the world ended. She debates for a while on whether or not to distract him, he looks so… not peaceful, but close to- she doesn’t need to make the decision, in the end. As she’s creeping out, Caleb drops the edge of the cloak and stands up,  
“Sorry, I, hm. Thinking.”   
“I could tell.” Nott gives him a wry sort of smile, “Do you want to see Jester?”   
“Now?”   
“Coffee first.” Nott placates, she knows, somehow, that this is what Caleb wants. And is mostly right, he does want coffee.   
“ _Ja_ , sounds like an excellent idea. I will make it, how much- hm. What sweetener do you use?” He brushes past her into the main room,   
“Agave syrup.” Nott follows him through to the kitchen, hops up to sit on one of the chrome countertops, “It was a gift from Yasha.”   
This shocks Caleb a little. Yasha, gentle though she is, doesn’t seem the sort to take sweetener. If he was to guess at the coffee she would drink, it would be black.   
He busies himself with the coffee, brewing and pouring and squishing, and comes finally to Nott’s cup with the little glass bottle of syrup.   
“How much?”   
“Pour. I’ll say stop.”   
So he pours. A slow, but steady stream.   
And he pours.   
And he pours.   
And he pours.   
“Really?”   
And he pours.   
“Stop.”   
The level of coffee in the cup has raised by easily half a centimetre.   
“Nott.” Caleb says flatly, “That will kill you.”   
“Not for a whi-ile!” Her tone is sing song as she slips over and takes the cup, swallows down three large gulps in one go and grins.   
Caleb stares in a state of disbelief, draws his eyes away so that he can add a quick, if generous, dollop of the syrup to his own coffee. He’s had a taste, now, there’s no getting out of it- he _enjoys_ something.   
They both pull themselves up to sit on opposing countertops as they drink in silence, and Caleb nearly drops his cup and jumps out of his skin when the door to the apartment opens.   
“Hell- _o_ , you decent?” Molly calls through, and then comes in anyway. He almost walks right past them, with such comfort that it’s jarring to Caleb- he’s only been here once before, as he recalls, and he’s wandering around as though he lives here, too.   
“Ah! There you are.” Molly grins and comes to lounge across the countertop, sets his own cup down- looks like he’s brought his tea from his own apartment, the little teabag tag trails over the side and fruity smells are beginning to fill the air. Caleb can only really accurately pick out raspberry, but he feels that it’s a blend.   
“Molly.” Nott greets politely, but there’s a smile on her face, which Molly mirrors.   
“How’d you sleep, Caleb? Feeling better?”   
“Mm, _ja_ , thank you for, for yesterday. And for the cloak. You did not tell me it was, it was magical.”   
“Thought you might figure it out.” Molly gives Caleb a flash of his sharp teeth as he lies through them, “Nott says you’re smart.”   
“He is! Caleb is _very_ smart, he can, he can memorise up to… um… nine? Nine spells a day!”   
Molly chuckles as he pulls his cup up and takes a long sip, eyes firmly on Caleb and _burrowing_ , like they’re carving straight through him.   
“Why, you are here, early- did we have plans for today?”   
“Hm? Oh, no. I did have something… but I forget. It’ll come back to me. You two look like you’re off out, though, who has your attention today?”   
“Jester.” Caleb sips his drink to give him the pause of time to study Molly over the rim, “Nott tells me she owns a café, and could do with some help on the accounting of the place.”   
Molly taps his cup to his lip as he thinks, hums a little,   
“Yasha has been helping her out a bit, but every accountant she actually _hires_ doesn’t last more than, oh… two weeks?”   
“Why is that?” Caleb leans forward, curious, and Molly’s grin widens,   
“They all blame it on her chattiness. Personally, I think the place is probably haunted.”   
“ _Haunted_?” Nott gasps, her eyes wide and fearful, she turns to Caleb, “You can’t work somewhere that’s haunted!”  
Caleb rolls his eyes as he slips down from the counter and throws back the last mouthful of coffee,   
“I believe Mollymauk is teasing.”   
The look of glee on Mollymauk’s face is not one Caleb would expect of someone who has just had their nefarious plot dashed like a fly against a window.   
“I am! I am teasing!” He says, entirely too excited, pushes himself up on his arms and leans over the desk, his tail waves excitedly behind him, “You could tell that I was teasing!”   
Oh. That’s why he’s excited.   
It’s a plus one to friendship with Mollymauk.   
Caleb turns his back on him to rinse out his mug, and to hide the small smile forcing its way onto his face.   
He hears Nott sigh in relief, makes a grabby hand motion toward her for her cup, rinses that out too.   
“You waltz in here, Mollymauk, as though it is something you do on a, a, a regular basis.” Caleb manages to even his tone to sound light and teasing, which he’s proud for. And then immediately feels disgust that he could ever feel pride for himself, even for the little bits, because how could he ever be proud of himself?   
Molly breaks through that reverie as he comes up to the counter beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that Caleb can feel his warmth.   
“I was pretty good friends with the last people to live here.” Molly explains pleasantly as he leans across and uses his cup to nudge Caleb’s hands out from under the running water, fills it up, “We worked together, they only moved out a couple of weeks ago. Sorry if I’m intruding, you can let me know.”   
Caleb looks over his shoulder at Nott, who shrugs,   
“I think, perhaps, in the future, you may want to wait for us to call for you at the door.”   
Molly grins,   
“That’s fair. If I’d been twenty minutes earlier…”   
“You probably would have just caught me coming out of the shower,  _ja_.”   
Molly tips his water into the sink as he steps back and assesses Caleb,   
“You know, I hadn’t even noticed!” he trills, very Jester-like in positivity and tone, “You clean up well, you know. Still, I think I like you regardless- you’re an interesting man, Caleb Widogast.”   
Caleb freezes up, shoulders draw back at his last name, even though it licks at that soft part of his heart that he can’t quite manage to ice out.   
“You know my- my- my full name.”   
Molly smiles cryptically, as though he doesn’t pick up on the heavy signals of discomfort that Caleb is radiating like a fucking _beacon._   
“How- I did not tell you- did you find this out?”   
Molly’s tongue flickers across his lips, he leans back to maintain the languid illusion   
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”   
Caleb’s freezing muscles begin to burn, a little rage comes into his voice, just a little,   
“Yes. Yes, I would _very much_ like to know how you found out _details_ about me. I try very hard to, to avoid, them, you know, and if there is a way I am unaware of that you can- can- can find, me, my name-”   
“Caleb, sorry, I, ah,” Molly’s rough, teasing demeanour drops away to calm and comforting and _small_ , no longer a dick measuring contest but a reassurance, “I just asked Jester, okay? You gave her your name when you first met her.”   
“Oh.” Caleb deflates. He feels _very_ bad about squaring up, now.   
“I understand.” Molly places his hand down on the side, parallel to Caleb’s, “And I meant what I said. You _are_ a very interesting man.”   
“I think that your coat is interesting, too.” Caleb comes back, swift, as though nothing bad had ever happened, “Perhaps we can swap secrets some time.”   
Molly’s lips twitch into a smirk.   
“Perhaps.”   
He straightens from the side and picks up his mug, turns to leave and stops suddenly with a soft _oh_ of shock.   
“Mollymauk?” Caleb asks after him, and Molly spins to Nott,   
“Yasha wanted to see you, Nott! That’s why I came over. Something about flowers.”   
Nott flushes, turns to Caleb,   
“I gave Yasha flowers on the first day. She’s very big, I thought, maybe if I give her flowers, she _won’t_ kill me in my sleep.”   
“That seems to be a fair and reasonable thought.” Caleb nods, completely serious. Molly stares at them both in utter bafflement.   
“Are you okay?”   
“No.” Nott and Caleb answer in perfect tandem, share a brief look of delight between them.   
Molly is silent for a moment. “Uh… _any_ way, Yasha asked me to send you over.”   
“But… Jester.” Nott looks to Caleb in concern, Molly waves a hand,   
“I’m heading over anyway, dropping off something for Beau when she gets back. I’ll take him.”   
“I am not a child.” Caleb protests, and Molly side-eyes him cheekily,   
“Of course, darling, but right now we have to treat you like one.”   
The pet name sends an icy shiver of discomfort down Caleb’s spine, like someone has poured a trickle of seawater down the exact centre of his back.   
It’s not being talked down to that does it. It’s the saccharine sweet. It’s the affection. It’s the _fake_.   
Caleb closes up like a clam, tilts his head up with the distant haughty sense he keeps as a second personality, close at hand when he needs to become someone new for a minute.   
“I will find Jester’s apartment on my own. I do not need you.”   
He realises, when it’s out of his mouth, how childish it sounds. But it seems to do the job, Molly’s brow creases minutely,   
“Did I say something wrong? Caleb? _Caleb_?”   
Caleb brushes past him, confident in step, he’s pretty certain of where he’s going based on where he first saw Jester. And there’s only two doors he can try, worst case scenario, he walks into Fjord’s apartment instead. And the half-orc seems to be calm and respectful, honestly, given the rough beat in his chest right now, Caleb thinks he would prefer it.   
He changes directions at the last second, can still hear Molly calling for him behind him but ignores it, and raps lightly at the door he assumes to be Fjord’s.

Mollymauk Tealeaf can go fuck himself sideways.


	4. Price Of Candor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb finally gets around to speaking to Jester.

Molly doesn’t, as it goes, fuck himself sideways.

He knocks at Fjord’s door a half hour later, Caleb and Fjord have been bonding over a very pleasant cup of tea- Earl Grey, it shocks Caleb a little that Fjord owns the stuff. He doesn’t explain it away as gift, but as a curiosity, something he just… picked up, once, and enjoys from time to time. Caleb can see why, it’s an oddly refreshing, calming flavour. Or calming to Caleb, at least. Citrus has always been that way.  
He hears the knock and doesn’t place it as Molly at first, but he recognises the voices.   
“Is Caleb here?”   
“Now what’d you go an’ fuckin’ do, Molly?”   
“I don’t know!” It sounds like Molly throws his hands up and lets them fall with a dull thud, “I think, maybe, I overstepped my teasing again. I don’t know.”   
“How-” Fjord’s voice is almost a squeak, he knows what Molly has done, he’s spent an easy twenty minutes cautiously prying it out of Caleb. Whilst it’s not something _Fjord_ would personally consider an issue, he understands. And Caleb appreciates that.   
“How _what_?” Molly’s tone turns low, dangerous,   
“What’d you say t’ him, Molly?”   
“I- I made a joke that we have to treat him like a child?”   
“And?”   
“I… oh. I called him darling.”   
“Yeah?”   
Fjord’s one-word answers couldn’t be more obvious,   
“That’s it, isn’t it? He’s been talking to you? I called him _darling_.”   
Caleb expects Molly to be angry that Caleb is upset at something so small. But he sounds… shocked, yes, but like it’s dawning, like a worry, like he cares.   
“Do you- should I leave? How do I fix this one?”   
  
Fjord curves his head back around the door to look at Caleb, his eyes very firmly on his drink, and disappears into the hall again.   
  
“Leave him be. Think it’s a bit of a culture shock t’ be around people like us, best to keep him away from people like you, ‘fore you corrupt him.”   
That one has a smile behind it. Caleb can hear.   
“That’s fair, that’s fair.” Molly agrees, and Caleb hears a soft sigh. The creak of floorboards and door as Molly and Fjord part ways, and then Molly’s voice lilts back to Caleb in a direct address,   
“Door’s always open to you, Caleb. Always.”   
And then he’s gone, and _Fjord’s_ door closes behind him with a soft click.   
“Y’ okay?” Fjord asks.   
“Thank you.” Caleb offers in quiet answer.   
Fjord comes over to sit beside, but apart from him.   
Caleb takes a few steadying breaths, sips his tea quietly, and feels Fjord look him over with an unreadable mixture of feelings. Mostly unreadable. There’s some concern in the cocktail.   
“Y’ came to me. I understand that’s an important thing, Caleb, that y’ chose me.”   
“You- you seemed so… hm. I feel that you are the most _understanding_ one, to some extent? That if I needed to get up and, and, and leave, you would not be offended.”   
There’s a long, drawn-out pause as Fjord processes this and collects the way he wants to respond.   
“Caleb,” the lowness of his tone sets Caleb’s teeth on edge, like a warning, like a wounded animal, “I don’t want y’ t’ think that I’m… huh. I ain’t afraid, that is, of callin’ you on shit you’re doin’ wrong. And I ain’t always the picture of patience, much as I try to be, much as I try to understand. Sometimes, I just… I’ll get mad. And I don’t think you’ll like it. And it ain’t always justified, I don’t think, I just want you to have the heads up.”   
He keeps his eyes on Caleb through the little speech, gives his honesty freely, and chuckles,   
“I’m told I’m intimidatin’ when I lose my cool. Scary. ‘Least, _Jester_ tells me those things, never quite sure how much of that is meant t’ boost my ego.”   
  
Caleb turns a little, finally, to look at Fjord. To look him up and down, still in the clothes he sleeps in; a pair of _leggings_ of all things, and a too-big logo t-shirt that almost certainly was a gift from Yasha.   
In her size.   
With the Stormlord’s symbol printed large on the back.   
No wonder he uses it to sleep in, shit could get him killed.   
So Caleb looks him up and down, slowly, reads the expression on his face, nervous, and wonders how in the history of _fuck_ this man could be anything other than gentle and understanding.   
“I will take your word for it.” Caleb says.

 

He drops in on Jester when he finishes his tea, bids Fjord a quiet and grateful goodbye as he slips almost guiltily out of his apartment and over to Jester’s door.

He knocks, a careful, set rap with only the tiniest amount of contact with his knuckles and the door. It’s flung open almost immediately, and Jester pours out onto him in the strangest, most liquid hug that Caleb had ever experienced.

Not hard, he supposes, considering he can count the amount of people that have hugged him on one hand.

Well. Jester makes it two hands.

Uncomfortable though he is, he still chuckles a little at the lick of warmth the gesture gives in his chest, one that only grows as Jester peels herself away and apologises profusely,  
“Sorry, I forgot, I forgot you're a _weird man_ who doesn't like hugs.” she says it with a tone of disgust, and that makes Caleb nervous, but he can see that she's smiling and takes that as a good sign.  
“Beauregard is not yet home?” he asks, and watches her visibly deflate at the thought of Caleb only being here for Beau.  
“No, she’s with Dairon ‘til this afternoon.”  
“Good. Good.”   
Caleb brushes past her into her apartment, heart in his throat and beating hard at his own confidence. Jester follows him in, seems completely unperturbed by the fact that this strange, somewhat scruffy man has decided to barge his way into her apartment.  
“Do you want a drink, Caleb? A donut? Croissant? Tart?”  
Caleb shakes his head once for each option,  
“No, it- I’m okay, it’s fine. I came over, actually to- first to tell you, to thank you, for…” He gestures up and down himself, at the new clothes, and Jester beams.  
“You’re _beautiful_ , Caleb!” She claps with excitement, with glee, and Caleb flushes. Tries to shrink into his collar.  
“I, um. I came, also, to ask you how to- to- to repay, the favour, in kind. I cannot afford, myself-”  
“You don’t need to repay anything.” Jester tells him as she flumps onto a soft-looking armchair, covered in a fluffy pink blanket, “I did it because we’re friends, now! And you can’t be my friend if you don’t have a _fashion sense_.”  
Caleb laughs a little, it makes Jester smile too, that he can pick up on her teasing lilt. Or maybe it’s pure awkwardness that forces the sound from his lips. She’ll never know.  
“Still,” Caleb sobers, but there’s a small smile to his face, “I feel that I need to do something. And Nott and Mollymauk both tell me that you own a, a business? And that you are in need of an accountant?”  
Jester’s face falls a little, just a little, and she nods,  
“All of the accountants I hire quit after a couple of weeks.” She tells him in concern, “They don’t seem to like me very much, and that’s okay! I don’t really care! Just… you’re my friend! And I don’t want…”  
She doesn’t need to find the words she starts to stammer for. Caleb understands.  
She wants him to stay around. She wants him to stay her ‘friend’ though perhaps Caleb would not push the bond to that name just yet.  
He blinks, slowly, as he sits on the closest couch.  
“I feel that careful discussion of professional  and personal boundaries would not only help the position, but may give you some inkling of what people do not like, and exactly where to tell them to shove it if they do not make the effort that you do.”  
Jester blinks in shock at the light overtone of venom in the last part, used to Caleb being small and quiet. But still, she smiles.  
“When can you start?”  
“When do you need me?” Caleb fiddles with the buttons on his cuff as the anxiety surges back in, “I- I do not have, plans, I can, whenever you need…”  
Jester hums thoughtfully as she sorts through a pile of papers and little ledgers on her desk.  
“How about next Thursday?” She asks him, quietly, and adds a pleased hum as she finds the ledger she wants, “I can give you what we have for this month, but you don’t _need_ to worry about it until then.”  
“That is a far time not to have an accountant.” Caleb warns, “I can start right away, I can read this in a night…” He flicks through the pages, and Jester comes over, sets her hand over the book in such a way that the tips of her sharp claw-like nails just drag across Caleb’s skin.  
“You don’t need to worry. I have Yasha until then, and I think you should settle in and learn your way around, and learn how not to be…”  
She waves the other hand at his general form, and though he hurts a little at the implication, he understands. And nods.  
“You are probably right.”  
“How are you and Molly?”  
This is jarring. Caleb hates it. He says nothing for a few long second, and then stands up,  
“Thank you, for, for taking a chance on me.” He tells Jester, wiggling the ledger, “I will try not to let you down.”  
“Anything you do is better than what I have, Caleb.” Jester tells him seriously, “But don’t avoid the question! Molly!”  
There’s a shimmer in the air and Caleb curses in Zemnian as he tries to will his mind to reject the Zone of Truth spell that she’s just cast, he tries to fix her with a glare but he can’t lie. And the glare is a lie. Jester’s face is split into a smile.  
“ _How_ are you and Molly?” The question this time is a bouncing trill, she’s far too excited and he edges toward the door, drops his eyes to the floor as he does and doesn’t lift them to look at her.  
“He was worried about you.”  
“Mollymauk does not know me.” Caleb finds himself protesting before he can bite his tongue, “He cannot care about me, he cannot worry about me, he seems very sweet and I don’t _deserve_ it.”  
That has Jester’s grin disappearing, into a frown,  
“What do you mean you don’t deserve it? You don’t have anything. You have no _money_ , you barely have a _home_ , from what Nott’s said, you don’t have any _friends_ other than her.”  
Caleb doesn’t reply.  
“And us.” Jester tacks on, firmly, not forcefully.  
“You do not know me either.” Caleb says in a choked whisper, like he’s trying to cut off his own air before he can squeeze his own secrets out, “I do not deserve your attention.”  
“But you want it? It makes you feel less alone?”  
Jester has sidled up to him and has her hand on the doorknob.  
Caleb stays silent, keeps his eyes on the floor.  
“If you answer those questions, that’s it for tonight. Promise. Pinkie swear.”  
Jester’s tone is still serious, even through the playful comments, and Caleb swallows.  
“ _Ja_.” He says, croaks, really, “ _Ja_. I want it. It makes me feel less alone. And I do not deserve the things that I want, I deserve to feel alone.”  
Jester opens her mouth like she wants to protest, and Caleb pulls his eyes up to hers,  
“You promised.”  
She turns the doorknob and pulls the door open, presses against the wall to allow Caleb to escape into the hallway and watches him rush, loudly, out of her sight.  
Across from her, there’s a quick pounding, and the door to Fjord’s apartment opens. He looks, first, in the direction Caleb had clattered off, and then back to Jester. She looks thoroughly miserable, on the borderline of tears, and Fjord saves his lectures for later.  
“Jes’.” He says, just that simple nickname, opens his arms to her and lets her run across the hall and jump up into his grip. She overestimates how strong he is, sometimes, he thinks, but he takes the brunt of the force and only stumbles back a little bit.  
“Y’ want some tea?” He huffs, close to her ear so that she shudders at the unpleasant sensation. She nods, though, sullen against his shoulder, and he chuckles.  
“Alright. Let’s get some sugar into y’.”

 

Caleb stops in the little hall outside his and Mollymauk’s doors, finds a wall, a corner to squish himself into. Corners are good. Corners protect him. When he’s in a corner, he can see all the directions that he can be attacked from, nothing can get at him from the two walls behind him. He feels smaller, more contained, better. And the walls are cool, they seep away the heat of his panic.  
There’s a part of him that wants to go to Mollymauk right now, to clear up the problems they have, because he really wants this whole situation to work. He doesn’t want them to know how he truly is, he doesn’t want them to know that he’s evil.   
_Caleb_ doesn’t want Caleb to know he’s evil.   
It’s a shame that he can’t unmeet himself.   
There’s the soft click of a door opening, and Caleb tries to look up but he finds that he’s sunk to the floor and can’t seem to move. He doesn’t have to be patient, really, Yasha treads lightly as she comes up to kneel in front of him.   
“Am I okay to stay with you?”   
Caleb tries to talk, and he can’t make a sound. He sees, in his peripheral, Yasha smile a little.   
“You can just nod? I don’t like to talk anyway.”   
Caleb nods, fractionally. He doesn’t want to upset her, to send her away, that outweighs how much he hates that he’s burdening her with himself. She settles herself up against a wall, and pulls from a breast pocket a little frame that looks to be something like cross stitch.   
“Yasha? What- Caleb?” Molly’s voice, and Caleb shrinks away, he sees Yasha’s head whip around. No more words are spoken, he hears Molly back into the apartment and close the door. And Yasha returns to her cross stitch.   
As Caleb draws out of his little attack, he shuffles a little at a time, until he can set next to Yasha. This… is nice. It doesn’t feel like it’s _for him_ , he still feels bad for taking comfort in it, but not as bad as he would if Yasha wasn’t invested in each little stitch. Watching her work is soothing, it’s repetitive, and Caleb likes that. Safe. Enclosed. Three sides, two walls, one friend.   
He has, from the beginning, he thinks. But he makes sure to think it in clear words.   
Caleb likes Yasha.

 

They stay there a while. Caleb loses track of the time, hears only the semi-distant open-and-shut of doors. The only words that pass between them is a soft,  
“Okay?”   
A pause.   
“ _Ja_.”   
Another pause, longer, as they both stand up in quiet.   
“ _Danke_.”   
Yasha blinks at him, confused, and Caleb realises that he has forgotten to translate.   
“Thank you.”   
“Molly’s told you.” Yasha shrugs, “The door is always open.”   
That’s the end of it. Caleb re-enters his apartment, thoroughly drained, and moves past Nott’s concerned peeps into his room to collapse, face-first on the bed, the little ledger tossed haphazardly atop the cloak on the desk as he does so.   
He must fall asleep instantly. And sleep through most of the night, unusually, though he’s troubled with nightmare after nightmare after nightmare.   
Well, nothing good lasts forever. But pain? Pain is an eternity.   
He wakes in the early morning, bleary and reeling and stumbles to the toilet to be violently sick. He remembers hands on his shoulders, too big to be Nott’s, gentle voice. And he’s guided back to bed, blearily, wearily, he collapses again with Frumpkin curling up beside his neck, something light is laid over him and he cuddles hard to a pillow.   
He wakes up feeling far better at about ten in the morning. It’s a late wake-up for him. But since being sick, his sleep has been well and truly dreamless, and maybe not exactly restful, but it has been _sleep_ and that’s unusual enough.   
He sits up.   
The cloak that Mollymauk bought him slips off of his shoulders.   
Sleeping under it, he has that little niggling feeling of knowing, he runs his fingers over the runes embroidered at the base and the spell pops up to him like lettering in the air.   
A Cloak of Dreamless Sleep, used to help with nightmare-based insomnia, Caleb has heard of this enchantment but never really went out of his way to find or make it. The nightmares, yes, he hates them and they hurt him but they’re a reminder. Things that he can never be forgiven for. Things he must suffer for, always, for his stupidity and betrayal.   
He thinks about throwing the cloak away, now that he knows what it is, but as he bunches his fingers in the fabric he finds himself unable to.   
Because- and oh, Gods fucking above- Caleb cares too much about Molly. He cares too much about them _all_ and it’s been only a couple of days but Caleb has been alone for so long. Maybe he can pretend. Maybe he can fake it.   
He stands up, folds the cape neatly and frowns down at himself for sleeping in his nice clothes. He’ll have to wash them, but first, he _really_ needs to change- so that’s what he does. He has _enough clothes_ to change them.   
And when he wanders into the main room to see which of the lucky dip of friends is over this morning, he’s wearing a loose-fitting black linen shirt, a size too big for him perhaps, but he gets the general feeling that Jester intended it to be slept in. The lacing at the front seems more decorative than anything, leaves the neckline too open but when Caleb tries to tighten it in the mirror, his hands shake too much. And he gives up. It’s not unusual to wear a necklace, after all, it just looks like another prism gemstone decoration, similar to the one he’s seen Molly wearing.

He comes into the main room to find Molly and Nott craning over something together, there’s flasks and a bunsen burner and titration equipment, and Caleb chokes down his own curse. He waits for them both to stop with the careful measurements before he steps up.  
“Alchemy?” He says, critical tone to his voice, “ _Really_?”   
“Morning, Caleb!” Nott says cheerfully, “How did you sleep?”   
Molly is watching him in an odd way. An uncomfortable way. He’s waiting for Caleb’s answer.   
Caleb just kneels next to the supplies and reads through the little labels,   
“You are trying to make acid.”   
“Not the fun kind, unfortunately.” Molly grins at him, there’s the uneasy hint but it’s mostly genuine, “Just the burning kind.”   
“Mollymauk.” is all that Caleb has to say in his flat tone, and Molly laughs. The sound is light, like the peal of a little silver bell.   
Caleb hates that _that_ is the way his mind chooses to process and store Molly’s laugh.   
But damn if it isn’t stocked away like that now, tucked into a back corner of his mind.   
“Nott?” Caleb asks, easily though his heart rate decides now to double, “Could I trouble you to make me a coffee?”   
He feels horrid asking. Awful. Nott deserves so much, Nott deserves to be pampered, she deserves Caleb waiting on _her_. She nods, dutifully, and scampers away, leaves Caleb and Molly both kneeling by the table as the titration that Nott has going drips slowly.   
Molly looks as though he wants to say something.   
Caleb does too. But he sure isn’t going to.   
“I’m sorry.” Is what Molly comes out with, eventually. “I don’t realise the way I talk, sometimes. Next time, though, I’d appreciate if you tell me what I’ve done wrong.”   
Caleb shuffles awkwardly, like it’s a telling off, but Molly comes around the side of the table on his knees and sets a hand to the edge, next to Caleb’s, but not touching.   
“I like you.” Molly tells him, softly, “You’re interesting. I want to know you better.”   
Caleb gets the distinct feeling that, firstly, this is the truth. And secondly, that this is burning Molly’s throat worse than any acid ever could.   
“If we need to work out a system… I think Yasha could help.”   
“No, no.” Caleb interrupts him. He skids his hand a little closer to Molly’s, until his little finger brushes Molly’s just, so lightly, “If you want me to talk, about boundaries, I think… I can probably manage it. As long as you don’t try to, to, to force from me, that which I am not… I don’t want you to know.”   
“Much the same.” Molly smiles, doesn’t look directly at Caleb as he does, but he knows that Caleb sees it.   
“I don’t like to be referred to by, affectionate names.” Caleb tells Molly, and it’s almost inaudible it’s so soft.   
Molly is quiet for a moment as he assesses his boundaries, covers it with tilting the little bottle in a clamp so that it drips a little faster.   
“Can I ask why?”   
They hear the fridge open, there’s not a lot of time left. So Caleb decides on the best option available,   
“Would it be okay if- if I come over, later this afternoon? I would prefer privacy, I am select in what details I divulge to which person.”   
Molly nods, understanding,   
“‘Course. I’ll be in almost any time I’m not here, or at Fjord’s place.”   
“Thank you.”   
The fridge opens again. Time’s up, Caleb thinks, but before he can slide away, Molly’s fingertips press at the back of his fingers,   
“How _did_ you sleep?”   
Caleb studies and scrutinises him, feels the heat from Molly’s hand over his own, and draws up a conclusion from the dark purple-blue circles under Molly’s eyes.   
“You knew about the cloak?”   
“I did.” Molly admits.   
“And that is why _you_ were interested in it. Your nightmares.”   
“That’s true.”   
A pause.   
“Nott came to get you last night. You stayed here. You were with me this morning.”   
“I’m sorry.”   
Nott comes in before Caleb can tell Molly that it’s okay, that he’s grateful, that he _doesn’t deserve it_ , and hands him the cup.   
“I tried to put less syrup in for you.” She tells him guiltily, and he tries the coffee. It’s the perfect amount of sweet, and he can’t help the smile on his face for her.   
“Thank you.” He tells her, in the gravelly, low voice he uses when he’s being truly genuine. She bristles with excitement, she knows this tone, and he sets the cup _under_ the table so that he can turn and hug her properly, quickly, he hears Molly shuffle and chuckle behind him with almost a tone of pride.


	5. All At Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems whenever Molly comes close to cracking Caleb's armor, they take ten steps backwards.

Caleb knocks quietly on Molly’s door that afternoon. He hopes that if he’s quiet enough, neither of them will hear, and he has a free pass out of the promise he’s made.  
Sadly? No such luck.   
Yasha opens the door to him, steps back into the room quietly and lets Caleb shut the door behind him.   
This is the last of the apartments that Caleb has been in, and he takes more note here. He’s not angry, he’s nervous, and when he’s nervous, he documents.   
Yasha puts two fingers on each of his shoulders and guides him lightly to a chair, where he sits without really thinking about the seat or the contact. He’s busy taking in all of the chains and sparkles and little crystal orbs, trinkets and baubles that could belong to either of them.   
And, of course, the five-foot greatsword mounted on the wall.   
“Molly had to go out for milk.” Yasha is explaining to him, “He left ten minutes ago, he should be back soon. Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea? Vodka?”   
Caleb gives a strangled bark of laughter,   
“I think that alcohol would certainly ease the conversation I am about to have.” He tells her tersely, and as her fingers go for the bottle of vodka, he shakes his head,   
“It’s fine. I cannot drink vodka anyway, it makes me ill.”   
“What’s your spirit of choice, then?”   
Caleb answers without processing, really, not the first time he’s had a question like this,   
“Whiskey.”   
There’s some clinking and pause, and then Yasha hands him a shot glass.   
“Don’t tell Molly.”   
He knocks it back.   
“Thank you.”   
  
Molly arrives five minutes later with an armful of groceries and the longest, most sprawling apology to Caleb that he’s ever heard. He goes to take Caleb’s hand, at first, to drag him away from Yasha, but pauses quickly before he can make contact. Caleb watches his fingers twitch.   
He presses his wrist up into Molly’s grip and swallows his heart back into his chest, Molly squishes and then pulls Caleb through the twisting maze of trinkets and chairs and haphazard anything, into a small room that looks to be similar in location to Caleb’s.   
Molly’s room is painted purple.   
There’s gold spirals up one wall, a feature wall, Caleb assumes, and he’s dumped unceremoniously on Molly’s bed. His mattress is soft, his quilt cover is velour, and there’s a scattering of small pillows across one side of the double, most likely the side that Molly doesn’t sleep on.   
And, cutest of all, on one wall- a square of battery powered fairy chain lights, with little pinned images of Molly and his friends. He spots Yasha in one, inspecting a flower in the sunlight. In another, Beau on Jester’s shoulders, both laughing. There’s unfamiliar people in the third, two short women, halflings to be assumed, either side of Molly wearing a cheesy grin. And another face he doesn’t recognise, a half-elf with long, dark hair over the left side of her face, not quite covering the black scales there. She seems to be blushing furiously as Jester kisses her cheek.   
There’s a smattering of Fjord candids, too. Some are good photos, of a brooding or laughing Fjord, others clearly spur-of-the-moment stupid things. Like Fjord with his mouth packed with marshmallows.   
Molly flumps down next to him as he takes in the room. Tarot cards. Crystal ball. Various necklaces. A sewing kit, a ring hand, Molly’s coat hung up on a wardrobe.   
“You let me touch you.” Molly hums, distant as though he’s falling asleep. Well, he is laid back in the pillows.   
Half-buried, one pillow has flopped over his face as he tucks his arms behind his head.   
“Uh- hm. _Ja_ , it seemed, the easiest option, your apartment is a maze.”   
He sees the corner of a smile.   
“You- you mentioned a conversation of boundaries?”   
“I believe,” Molly grunts as he sits up, “I’d asked why you don’t like the affectionate names.”   
Caleb shifts, silently, and Molly gives him a criminally gentle smile,   
“If it’s something you _don’t_ want to tell me, you can just tell me that. I’m not mad or upset.”   
“No, I think-” Caleb finds his throat choked and swallows the threat of tears, “-I think, that you should know. I just… I am not ready. Yet. Ask me again in a day or two. I will manage myself an answer to that question.”   
Molly turns on the bed, crosses his legs,   
“If you change your mind, let me know.”   
Caleb breathes, steadying himself, he gets the distinct feeling that Mollymauk is struggling very hard to control himself, not to touch him, and he feels a rush of gratitude for this.   
“Nice shirt, by the way.”   
Oh, Caleb had forgotten about that.   
He flushes a little as his hands come to the too-open neckline and hold it closed, mumbling apologies, but Molly only laughs.   
“It’s fine, Caleb, don’t panic. It’s the style I usually wear, having trouble with the lacing?”   
Caleb wonders what shade of red he is. Raspberry? Tomato? Depths of Hell?   
He nods, and Molly reaches toward him, draws back when Caleb flinches.   
“Right. Asking first. I can help, if you want me to?”   
Caleb, slowly, lowers his hands from their place clenched against his throat,   
“I- please, I would appreciate that.”   
Molly’s hands come up again, disappear into Caleb’s blind spot as he keeps his eyes very deliberately on Molly’s horns. He notices a new trail of gems, from the little ring on the tip of his left horn. Molly’s touch is feather-light, he barely feels the contact but he can see the concentration, the laces tighten slowly and close the uncomfortable gap for him.   
The little trail of gems glimmers in the sunset light from the window, twinkling and casting little orange dancing lights across the ceiling, across the bedroom, across Caleb.   
They look like they’re most likely amber, perhaps topaz, he’s not well-versed in gemstones, but Caleb finds his fingers stroking down them before he can properly grasp what he’s doing and he feels Molly’s breath as he chuckles.   
“Sorry.” Caleb says, he drops his hand quickly, feels a quick tug of finality by his clavicle and Molly sits back to run his own fingers over the little trail of gems.   
“You don’t need to be.”   
“They- they’re new, I just, noticed, um-”   
Molly waves a hand before Caleb can drop into the spiral of rambling,   
“I like to wear the colours of my friends.” He explains to Caleb, traces his fingers over various little curls of metal, little gems, “See this?” he cups and displays a blue, a deep blue gem with a faceted cut-and-polish, “Iolite. Yasha. There’s a lot of blues in our group, but Yasha was the first.”   
Molly runs his fingers over the gem affectionately, distant as he thinks,   
“They change, from time to time, as I learn more. I picked turquoise for Jester first, because it’s blue and pretty and seemed very much like her. And then I got to know her better, her favourite colour is pink, and I thought that things like truth and communication probably weren’t her strongest traits. But happiness? That’s a Jester thing, so now I wear rhodochrosite for her.”   
A thumb brushes quickly over a pink banded gem in a soft oval, set in a gold band around his horn.   
“And the- the… amber?”   
Molly smiles softly, his mind may be present but his eyes are distant, he sees elsewhere as his hand moves back to the little trail of orange.   
“You, but I suspect that you knew that already.”   
Caleb breathes a little harder, it’s hardly a laugh but Molly’s smile widens like it was.   
“I had suspicions.”   
“I picked it up yesterday.” Molly tells him, and blinks his vision back to the present, back to Caleb, “You said your favourite colour is orange. Never thought to ask for your favourite gem.”   
Caleb smiles, a little at this.   
“I am not well-read on the topic of precious stones.” He tells Molly, “I would not have been able to give you an answer. I do know amber, though, tree resin?”   
“That’s right.” Molly encourages, and Caleb nods along with him,   
“I- I like this one.”   
Molly grins, so bright it could be blinding, and his fingers gather handfuls of the quilt underneath him in his excitement. Caleb hopes the flush he feels isn’t as obvious on his face, he looks away from Molly to the pictures instead and studies them, one-by-one.   
“You have a lot of photographs of Fjord.” He comments to Molly, watches his excitement seep into something softer, more liquid and gentle, as he turns too to look at the photographs.   
“He’s a nice subject.” He shrugs, “No such thing as a bad photograph of Fjord.”   
“He is very handsome.” Caleb nods, agrees, and watches Molly bristle with curiosity and turn, slightly, toward him.   
“Oh? Got a crush there, Caleb?” He ensures his tone is teasing, the laugh that Caleb gives is a little terse, but mostly genuine.   
“If it is a crime to appreciate the attractive qualities of my friends, I suppose you can send me right back to jail.”   
There’s a pause, Molly’s smile flickers and he blinks as he processes exactly what Caleb has said. Caleb’s panic begins to burn up his throat.   
“Oh.” Caleb says, “Oh, no.”   
“Da- I mean, Caleb, hold on-”   
Caleb is scrambling up toward Molly’s door, apologising as he does so, Molly comes after him but doesn’t manage to get to him in time, he hears the apology grow louder as Caleb clatters through the apartment and out, out into the hall and away from Molly’s door.   
Molly collapses to the carpeted floor just outside of the front door, buries his face in his hands. Not his fault, this time, but he still hurts for it. It seems that every time he gets anywhere near peeling away a layer of Caleb’s walls, he bolts.   
Yasha leans against the doorjamb behind him.   
“It was going so well?”   
“You don’t have to listen in to all of my conversations.” Molly tells her irritably, and she sighs as she ducks down and picks him up as though he weighs nothing, sets him back up onto his feet.   
“It isn’t deliberate, Molly, and you know it. Don’t take it out on me. You’ve only known him a couple of days.”   
“He trusts you more than me.” Molly sulks as he comes in, slips past her into the apartment and she follows, light as ever,   
“He doesn’t trust _any_ of us. You’re not meant to, the only reason you do-”   
“Don’t. Do not bring it up.” Molly whips to glare at her, shoulders tense and fighting not to tear his hair from his head in frustration.   
Yasha comes to him and stands at his side. She doesn’t raise her arms, she doesn’t do anything, just stands, patient, and waits for _Molly_ to turn and bury her face in her shoulder. And she pulls an arm around his shoulders, kisses the top of his head.   
“You need to be patient.” She tells him firmly, like one would chastise a child. He freezes against her for a second, but slumps, sad.   
“I know.”

 

Caleb flees out of the building into the street. He’s careful not to be seen, how can he ever go back? Now that Molly knows, surely he’ll tell the others. They don’t even know the worst of it. But he knows that he can be researched, if you’re determined enough, he _knows_ and he runs.   
He thinks he bumps into a few people on the way, he doesn’t know where he is and there’s nowhere that he can go to calm down and he doesn’t want to. He zones out still moving, and when his senses come back, he’s curled in a dark alley by an industrial size trash bin, freshly dirtied and with the feeling of tears still fresh on his otherwise numb face. He blinks out of his own eyes, to Frumpkin’s, finds himself in Nott’s arms on Molly’s doorstep and feels her panic.   
Mollymauk is shrugging on his coat, there’s worry in his face too, and when Nott turns, he sees Fjord, Jester, and Beau, all in their own coats and gathered like they’re ready to leave.   
It hits Caleb that this is a search party. They’re looking for him. And he blinks again to the alleyway, crawls to the dustbin and into the corner it makes with the wall. And then he closes his eyes and passes out.

 

“Shit.” Beau peers around every corner she passes, “Shit, fuck.”  
Fjord had given them a very _specific_ plan, where to go, who to talk to, what to look for, but when had Beau ever taken instruction from anyone but Dairon?   
Molly had pulled her aside before they left, damn near pinned her into the doorway of the elevator- broken, as usual- and leaned in so close she’d nearly winded him.   
“Jail.” He’d hissed in her ear, quiet enough that nobody else would hear, “He was in prison. I don’t think he meant to tell me, he freaked out-”   
“I got it.” Beau’d put a hand to his chest and shoved, “Don’t tell _anyone_ else.”   
“I only told you because you’ll _know_.” Molly’s tail had waved behind him, his eyes narrowed as though he was angry. Beau knew too well the signs of concern in him, though- the same signs she sees every time Fjord is sick with the seawater sweats, each time he’d disappeared, the time she’d ended up in hospital and woken up to find him asleep in the chair beside her.   
“I’ll sort it.” Beau remembers her own, firm voice. Confidence she doesn’t have now, scooting through back-alleys and she squints around, briefly. And there’s a symbol.   
Like a cursive ‘G’ twisted to be almost unrecognisable, but Beau knows it too well, she heads to the scruffy side-door and bangs hard, three times.   
There’s scraping and scuffling from inside.   
“Yes?”   
Beau tastes acid in the back of her throat. She’s always managed to keep away from this particular gang, hears that the Gentleman is the worst of them, but swallows down anyway and speaks,   
“I have need of a boon.”   
There’s a laugh somewhere between a chuckle and a cackle, some more scraping.   
“What will you give in return?”   
If she finishes this, there will be no going back.   
“Many gifts.” She chokes out, and the scraping grows louder, the door opens.   
She needs to find Caleb.   
That’s all she’s thinking as she traipses down the barely-lit staircase to the underground lair of the Gentleman, trailed by a creepy-looking dwarf that cackles the whole way.

 

Beau feels like she’s promised her soul, coming out of there and heading straight to the place the Gentleman had described Caleb being. She _hates_ being under service, but he’s promised her a turn for a turn and she only owes one, but it’s never only one.   
And when he calls, she must go.   
She finds Caleb curled by a bin and out of it, shivering in the grey light of dawn, he’s been out all night. He’s damp from the light rain and mists, and when she rests her hand on his forearm, spookily cold. Lukewarm, but too cold for Caleb, far too cold for Caleb. She scoops him up into her arms and holds him tight as she paces her way back to the apartment, steadily, and wonders how the fuck she’s going to contact the others without their phones.

 

Caleb wakes up in his own bed. In his own apartment. Under the Cloak of Dreamless Sleep and the cat blanket, and feeling very very ill. He blinks toward the window and groans a little, he’s been asleep for… Gods above, at least two days, it looks as though it’s mid-afternoon and it’s certainly not Sunday anymore.  
There’s whispers from outside and he knows he doesn’t want to deal with them yet, as long as he’s quiet they’ll assume he’s asleep, and he didn’t want to be back here in the first place.   
He wonders who found him. How they got him home. They must have carried him, so it couldn’t have been Nott.   
He climbs out of bed to collect the ledger from his desk, quiet as possible, and as he reaches out he notices the ribbon tied around his wrist, recognises it instantly as Beauregard’s, and feels a rush of relief that she was the one that found him.   
His shirt has been changed, too, this one doesn’t belong to him for certain. It’s the same style as the black one, only white.   
Probably Molly’s. He had told Caleb that he wore the same style, and when Caleb’s hands come to the lacing on the front, it’s tied so that the neckline is less open. He ghosts his hand over his neck, he can still feel the wax rope of the necklace, and it soothes him.   
He picks the ledger up and returns to his bed to read it over and begin doing the mathematical equations that Jester will need. He will need to boil up an apology, doubtless, now that he’s sure they know that part of his past that he never wanted them to know.   
But if they knew the rest, he’s sure they would have kicked him out already. They would have let him die. So they don’t know, then.   
Someone has been in here, though, there’s the bowing of the carpet by Caleb’s bed, as though someone has sat there for hours. He wonders who. Maybe Beau.

 

Out in Nott’s main room, they’re arguing over who should go in to check on Caleb now that they hear he’s awake. Molly wants to, Nott and Jester think it should be Beau, Fjord and Yasha each volunteer one another and they argue around and around until Yasha stands, finally, and claps her hand over Molly’s mouth.  
“Right.” Fjord speaks, eyes on Yasha, “Let’s do this like fuckin’ adults, an’ not kids arguin’ over who gets the last cookie. Caleb ain’t a cookie. Nott, who d’you think should check on him, an’ why?”   
Nott shuffles,   
“I want- me? Can I say me?”   
“If y’ couldn’t say yourself, who would y’ choose?”   
“Beau.” Nott says, immediately, without pause, and shrugs when Beau makes a noise of protest. “Caleb likes her.” She gives as explanation. Fjord nods, thoughtful, and moves around the circle to Jester,   
“Jester, who an’ why?”   
“Beau! Even Nott said that Caleb _likes her_ , there’s nothing better for sickness than a little love!”   
Beau chokes on the angry gulp of iced tea she’s taking, and both Fjord and Molly splutter in perfect unison,   
“Jester, y’know Beau ain’t interested in men, right?” Fjord leans in to ask as Molly shuffles to Beau’s side and pats her back, hard. Jester smiles,   
“I know that! Caleb doesn’t need to, though, even being close to someone you _like_ can be enough.”   
She bounces her eyebrows at Fjord. The green of his cheeks darkens, and he moves swiftly on,   
“Yasha?”   
“I think it should be you.” Yasha tells him seriously, fixing him with that dual-colour stare of hers that makes everything uncomfortable and piercing, “He came to you the other day, right? After Molly put his foot in his mouth?”   
Her eyes turn to Molly, who groans as he sits back down next to Beau, pushes his face into his hands.   
“And, I think, what Jester says has some… truth.”   
Molly’s face turns up at that, he squints at her, but Fjord is already moving on to Beau. He doesn’t address, just points, and Beau squints at him. Sighs a little.   
“There’s a good argument for all of us to go, but t’be honest, I think Jester. He needs some of that sweet healin’ you keep saying you can do, he ain’t well.”   
“Good argument for all of us?” Molly says, bordering on a hysterical laugh, “What would those be?”   
Beau fixes him with a glare, jabs a finger at Fjord,   
“Caleb clearly has a crush on him.” And at Nott, “She’s the only one he trusts.” Jester, “ _Healer_.” Yasha, “Friend- okay, hold on there a second, by the way. He was mumbling about you on the way back. He called you his friend. His _friend_.”   
Molly hasn’t moved his eyes off of Fjord. Beau points at herself,   
“I’m the one that brought him back an’ I- no, not me,” and she points at Molly, “Any _you’re_ the one that fucked it up in the first place. C’mere-” She wraps a hand around one of his horns and pulls him close, so close that her lips touch his ear when she whispers,   
“You need t’ reassure him about what he told you. _You_ need t’ put your stupid little crush out of your mind, an’ focus on what is a very, very fucked up man, comin’ to us an’ needin’ our help.”   
“I think,” Molly says tersely, fighting a snarl, “That’s the smartest and most considerate thing you have _ever_ said.”   
Beau’s fingers dig hard into his shoulder.   
“You’re volunteerin’ yourself, Molly?” Fjord levels his gaze, watching as Molly tries to scrub away the hard line of anger Beau leaves in her wake   
“‘Course.”   
Fjord sighs heavily,   
“A’ight, so there’s good reason for all of us. How about this: we put our names in a hat, an’ draw one out?”   
There’s mumbling of mostly confusion, and Jester nods hard,   
“That’s the fairest choice!”   
They take a minute, scribbling each of their names down, Nott retrieves a bowl from her cupboard and they all toss the little folded pieces of paper in, grumbling softly about it as they go for one reason or another.   
Nott picks a name from the bowl and looks at it, cautiously, they see her pull a face and crumple it up.   
“Nope. Can we pick again?”   
She tosses the paper over her shoulder, and Fjord huffs as he stands and goes to pick it up. He smooths it out carefully and reads the spindly, somewhat messy writing aloud,   
“ _Molly_.”   
Molly grins, uneasy, as both Nott and Jester groan,   
“But Caleb needs someone he lo- _oves_ ,” Jester protests, “You can’t send Molly!”   
“How do you know he doesn’t love me?” Molly’s tone is teasing, and it might convince Jester but it comes nowhere near convincing Beau, or Fjord, “I’m hard to resist, darling, you know this.”   
He bends at the waist to almost a right angle, so that he can drop himself to her eye level, and she pouts.   
“I put him under a Zone of Truth, he would have _had_ to tell me!”   
“You _asked him_?” Molly steps back in genuine shock, and there’s a collective hiss. Behind Molly’s head, Fjord gives a cut-throat gesture to Jester.   
“It came up.” Jester sits back, cryptic and mysterious, “Shouldn’t you be checking on him?”   
The part of Molly battling to quiz Jester can’t stand up to his burning desire to make things right. He turns on his heel and strides to Caleb’s room with his coat billowing behind him, knocks twice, lightly, and goes in.   
“He didn’t even wait for permission.” Yasha stares after him, her tone is that of exasperation but her expression belies her concern.   
“He’s been sittin’ in there for a solid twenty-four hours, anyway.” Beau grimaces, “Nothin’ will stop him.”

 


	6. To Build Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb's friends are determined to try and do anything for him.

 

“Caleb.” Molly says to the pile on the bed that he knows fine well isn’t asleep. It doesn’t move, but the tiny ledger slips onto the floor with a light thud. He sighs.  
“ _Caleb_.” He tries again, more sing-song this time, and it still. Doesn’t. Work.   
And he sighs, comes up to the edge of the bed and sits just under the pile.   
“I know you’re awake, darling.”   
And he turns, whiplash to stare with red-rimmed angry eyes, Molly hisses at his own mistake.   
“Sorry! Learning! Learning!”   
Caleb sits up now that the illusion is lost, he draws the cloak around him like a shield against Molly and keeps his eyes on his knees. That hurts. Molly hurts.   
“Why _don’t_ you like the pet names?” Is the first thing Molly asks, and Caleb gives a strained and bitter laugh.   
“Because they are bullshit. You use them to- to try and, convince that you care, that you are gentle and kind, and…” he trails off on his own rage, his hands ball to fists in the edge of the cloak.   
“That’s true.” Molly says, slowly, “But if that’s your problem, I can… not?”   
Caleb doesn’t look up or move, his jaw clicks as it twitches, and Molly sighs a little.   
“I can say it only when I’m genuine.”   
“But how can I tell the difference, Mollymauk? How can I know? And even if I could- I don’t _deserve-_ ”   
“Caleb, if this is about your prison time-” Molly turns and hovers a hand over Caleb’s shoulder, “-then me, personally? I don’t care. You are who you are, not who you were. Your past isn’t my business, and from what I know of you and who you are _now_ , I like you! I l- I- I… fuck.”   
Caleb still doesn’t look up, he laughs almost maniacally, as though he can’t do anything else. Molly’s hand hovers over Caleb’s shoulder, still.   
“You can- you can touch.” Caleb chokes out, and Molly’s hand comes down, light on his shoulder but still there, still warm, still grounding.   
“I am everything that I once was.” Caleb tells him, keeps his voice steady despite the threat of tears, “And I am nothing. I can never be forgiven for the things that I have done, I- I need- I need to put them right. To fix them.”   
“Can you tell me? What they are?”   
Caleb shakes his head.   
“You will leave.”   
“I will _not_.” Molly emphasises by squishing his shoulder. Caleb shakes his head again, silently this time, like he can’t force any more words past the lump in his throat.   
Molly drops his hand from his shoulder as he shuffles closer and pulls the cat blanket up, around both of their shoulders and presses the side of his body to Caleb.   
“They were going to send Fjord, you know.” Molly says, soft and smiling, and he sees Caleb crack a smile too.   
“He is good company. I like Fjord.”   
“I can send him in instead, if you like? Everyone is outside.”   
Caleb takes a moment to think about how he would feel right now, if Molly was to leave. And he feels a flicker of panic, shakes his head.   
“I would- I would like, later, to see Fjord. But this is okay, now. With you.”   
He doesn’t see the way that Molly’s cheeks darken from that soft lavender to a red-violet, he doesn’t feel the way that Molly heats up and his tail lifts from the bed to avoid making noise as it whirls.   
  
They sit in amicable silence for a while, doing nothing but controlling their breathing and hearts. Molly steals the occasional glance over, and realises that he’s gotten himself in just a touch too deep, that this has gone far past the boundaries of a little crush. He has real feelings, and it is, quite frankly, scary.   
Caleb, on the complete other hand, is too busy wrangling himself back into his own outline. Considering that Molly is soft, and so gentle, and genuine, and it occurs to him for the first time in a long time that this person _cares_ about him. _Really_ cares. Without learning his problems, without learning him, without fighting to understand him the way that Nott did. Molly just… likes him.   
It’s only when Molly begins to slump into sleep that Caleb realises they’ve been sitting here too long, but he lets Molly drift away and sway and lean unconsciously into him, onto his shoulder and just… waits.   
It’s been over a decade since someone last trusted him like this. To fall asleep on him. It’s been so long, and it hurts, it _aches_ in his chest when he considers that.   
“Mollymauk.” He says, softly, when it begins to get too much. “Molly.”   
Molly comes awake slowly, with a sharp inhale and he blinks a moment as he processes where he is.   
“Shit.” He says as he sits up, and Caleb frowns at the cold spot he leaves, “I’m sorry, Caleb.”   
“Don’t be.” Caleb turns so that Molly can see him smile, “I left you there a while. If I had a- a problem, your head would not even have touched my shoulder.”   
Molly’s heartbeat stutters. At the smile, at the trust, at _Caleb_.   
He’s going to have such a long talk with Yasha about his feelings.   
“Do you want me to send Fjord in?” Molly asks Caleb, acts as though he isn’t wide-eyed and deep purple with flush, and Caleb rests a hand on Molly’s arm briefly.   
“Please.”   
Molly takes a split second too long to move, too caught up in the sensation of Caleb, too needy for the contact and lost, and Caleb’s head cocks a little in concern but Molly stands, battles off the urge to kiss Caleb’s cheek, gently, shrugs it aside and smiles over his shoulder as he slips out of the room.   
He closes Caleb’s door behind him and lets out a long, shaking breath, leans back into it to steady himself and forgets that Nott has all of the disaster crew over.  
  
“See.” Beau’s tone is smug, “Told’ja he had a thing for him.”   
  
Molly bares his sharp teeth at her, and she only chuckles. He heads over, glowering at her the entire way, sits next to Fjord on the floor,   
“He wants you.” He says, phrasing not deliberate but it weighs heavy on the air of the room anyway.   
“See?” Yasha mimics Beau’s tone with a uncharacteristically cheeky smirk, “I told you he had a thing for him.”   
“I said that too, Yash.” Beau rolls her eyes and scooches a little closer, “I think anyone with eyes an’ without green glasses can tell.”   
“Green glasses?” Fjord chips, and Beau frowns, waves her hands,   
“Yeah, y’know, like rose-tinted glasses but, green? Like, jealousy?”   
Yasha and Molly both chuckle at her clumsy explanation and she grimaces, folds her arms,   
“Alright, fuck you then.”   
“No, no- I’m sorry, Beau, that’s a good… idea.” Yasha reaches out to pat her arm, and Beau’s mouth snaps shut with the shock of it. Molly can _see_ the wheels turning in her head as she wonders how _normal people_ react to any sense of reciprocation of feelings.   
She jerks her chin at Yasha.   
“Thanks.”   
_Nailed it._   
It’s terrible. But that’s okay, because none of them are normal, in any way, and Beau is no exception. Fjord stands up and stretches despite Molly and Jester’s completely unsubtle stares, leans back until his back cracks at least three times, and turns for Caleb’s room.   
“See y’all later.” He waves over his shoulder, knocks at Caleb’s door, and waits for the soft _come in_ before he slips out of their sight.   
Molly watches him disappear into Caleb’s room and bites at the inside of his lip, Beau catches his eye briefly and stands, stretching her shoulders out and listening to them pop.   
“C’mon.”   
“What?” Molly looks up at her, and Jester follows his eyes, frowning. Beau grins down, wolfish and forced and Molly can tell. She offers him a hand.   
“We’re goin’ sparrin’”   
It’s bullshit. It’s so very clearly obviously bullshit. But he takes the offered hand and pulls himself to his feet with a huff, and bids farewell when she does as they leave.   
He expects her to lead the way to her apartment, maybe to his, but no- she heads for Fjord’s, instead, pulls out and flips a little gold key to let herself in.   
“You have a _key_ for Fjord’s apartment?” Molly asks in shock, Beau grins over her shoulder as the lock clicks open.   
“You don’t?”   
They head in, Beau flicks on the lights in the late evening last rays of sunset. Molly makes his way to Fjord’s main room, his apartment is so much plainer than everyone else’s. One soft green three-seater couch, a matching plush armchair, and a little glass coffee table on a rug, without much other decoration. No photos of Fjord’s past, no bookshelves, just an empty apartment, a well-stocked kitchen, and a couch that is _very_ inviting.   
Beau gets to it before him and he waits alongside, this is a ritual they’ve perfected by now, after all. And Fjord won’t tell.   
Beau flops down and shuffles into the crease of the couch, wriggles and stretches until she’s comfortable, and then looks up to Molly.   
“You’re good.”   
He collapses half on top of her, but it’s a practiced motion at this point and he knows exactly how to angle every bone and horn to avoid winding her, she still gives a soft _oof_ at the pure impact, but then an arm hooks across his back and he knows he’s done right.   
Molly closes his eyes and relaxes.   
“I appreciate this.” He grumbles as though forced, “Thank you.”   
“Fuck off and shut up.” Beau replies and her voice is as tired as Molly feels. She still squashes across his back a little, she could never show the reciprocation, she’d easier hit him than hug him and he’s okay with that. They get their moments like this, from time to time. Despite her temper, she’s always been patient with him.   
It’s taken so long to get here.   
Molly is exhausted, his nap on Caleb’s shoulder nowhere near enough to sate the lack of sleep he’s had lately and he can’t just drop in on Fjord the way he did when Yasha disappeared, the nightmares don’t stop any more. Here’s Beau, giving him an out, just one night of sleep.   
She’s already out, he can feel her breath slowed under his own chest and he tucks himself in a little tighter.   
Friends like Beau are very rare. He’s thankful for her.

 

Caleb’s room is lit only dimly from the window, it’s grown so late now.  
“D’you want the light on?” is the first thing Fjord asks, and Caleb shakes his head. Only Fjord’s darkvision gives him the insight, and he watches as Caleb raises a hand and mutters, and the room fills with light as an orb blooms from his palm. Fjord gives a soft grunt of pained surprise, blinks to adjust, and Caleb looks over sharply,   
“Oh, I- sorry. Sorry.”   
He looks around for a cloth, but all he finds is the Cloak of Dreamless Sleep, and he decides that Molly isn’t here. That will do.   
He drapes the cloak over the orb and mutes the light.   
“Thanks.” Fjord smiles, and stays firmly by the door as Caleb rubs his eyes and sighs.   
“I think,” Caleb picks his words carefully, “I- you can come and sit down.”   
Fjord’s step is neat as he comes to the bed and sits, an easy foot of space between himself and Caleb.   
“I have noticed- hm.” Caleb stops to think, “I have noticed that you, when Jester, is being Jester, you do not seem… comfortable.”   
Fjord chuckles out his awkward feelings, shrugs a little,   
“Sometimes it’s nice, havin’ someone cuddly like she is. She ain’t warm, though, kinda miss Molly on that front.”   
Caleb looks to Fjord’s face almost sharply, and Fjord gives an odd, lopsided smile,   
“Y’know. Molly an’ his sleepin’ problems, sometimes. Yasha disappeared, a while back, for a good while. Apparently, it ain’t unusual for her, but Molly was havin’ a rough time an’ so I ended up with him in my bed most nights. ‘S nice to have someone warm, especially wakin’ up of a mornin’ and realising you ain’t alone any more.”   
“I see.” Caleb says, confused as to why his mind is fogging over the way it is, “And you- uh- you are, generally amicable toward physical contact?”   
Fjord shrugs, and Caleb, twirling a finger for his light, sees a flush light across his face,   
“Depends, I s’pose, on how I’m feelin’ an’ who it is. Why, did Molly ask somethin’ of y’?”   
Fjord turns full to Caleb now, and the wizard gives a soft chuckle at the shock on his face,   
“Not- not Mollymauk, actually. No, I- hm. It has, occured to me, that perhaps a few of my issues may stem from the fact that I do not receive a lot of physical contact and affection. There’s… problems, in that if I don’t _trust_ the person- the person touching me, to a degree- but I do not trust at all, and so…”   
“Snake with its tail in its mouth, huh?”   
“That seems accurate.” Caleb gives a huff of laughter. Fjord smiles,   
“I’m assumin’ you asked me specifically, not because of Molly, but because you’d trust me enough for that?”   
Caleb’s eyes hit his fists, curled in his lap and he swallows. Nods.   
“What d’you need from me?”   
“I just-” Caleb struggles, words are so hard, so clumsy, but his actions are clumsier. His thoughts are so fluid, too fluid, more like a gas actually.   
Fjord lifts the arm closest to him and extends it out in his direction, silent, and waits, waits, waits. Caleb slips closer and ducks, under Fjord’s arm, shuffles up to his shoulder and huddles close, arms wrapped around himself and he finds himself shivering. This can’t last. It never lasts. He’s greedy for all he can get.   
Fjord drops his arm around Caleb’s shoulders wordlessly.   
“Molly came over th’ other day. Before you went missin’ that is.”   
“Oh?” Caleb hums at the conversation.   
“Yeah, said he’s excited for y’ or somethin’ along those lines. Wanted to pull y’ into some fun situations, plannin’ a trip to th’ lake tomorrow, but he pushed it back to Sunday since… well, he ain’t slept, so he can’t be runnin’ any fancy shit any time soon.”   
“He hasn’t slept?”   
Fjord looks at him oddly,   
“You ain’t been awake at _all_ in two days?” He asks, and when Caleb shakes his head, lets out a huff of shock, “Well on th’ contrary, always the contrary is Molly, he ain’t _slept_ since you went missin’. Him an’ Beau out all night lookin’ for y’, an’ since he got back to y’, Molly’s been right there.”   
He points at the dip in the carpet fibres, and now that he’s pointed it out, Caleb can see the distinctive shape of Mollymauk leaning half against his bed, half to the wall. It’s outlined in his mind.   
“Oh.” Caleb says, softly, there’s a rush of something unfamiliar, and Fjord squeezes his shoulders a little.   
“Don’t know what y’ did to earn such loyalty, but he’d die for you I reckon.” It’s teasing, but still sends a shiver down Caleb’s back.   
“He is- is- he is too kind, and too sweet- he should stay away from- from me.”   
He ducks out from under Fjord’s arm and draws away, despite Fjord’s tiny crease of his brow, of hurt.   
“Did I say somethin’ y’ didn’t like?”   
“I- the truth, I think. Mollymauk is far, far too trusting. I have been here- how long have I been out? Two days? Then a week, tomorrow. That is not- it’s not enough time, Fjord. It will never be enough time.”   
“Relax.” Fjord soothes, “Y’ don’t have t’ see anyone but Nott ‘til saturday. Jester still wants those books done, y’know.”   
That is somewhat soothing, Caleb thinks. First, that Jester still wants him. And second, the idea of being able to sit here, do some addition, work out budgeting, that is _bliss_. All he’s ever wanted. Almost, but it’s closer than he’s ever been before.   
“Thank you.” Caleb manages to choke out, “You are- you are a good friend, I think, Fjord.”   
“An’ you’re good to me.” Fjord manages an odd sort of smile as he stands, “Y’ain’t tried to kill me yet.”   
Caleb smiles, but he’s so tired. He wants Fjord to stay. He wants Fjord to leave. He wants to be alone. He never wants to be alone again.   
“Goodnight, Fjord.” He emphasises Fjord’s name. Like it’s important.   
“G’night, Caleb.”   
He leaves. Caleb pulls the Cloak of Dreamless sleep from the orb as he lets it fade, curls it around himself and throws himself back down to the bed.   
He can smell lavender.   
He can smell Molly.

He sleeps.

 

Fjord comes into his apartment quietly, he knows the look that Molly gave Beau too well. It’s as he expected, they’re flopped over one another on his sofa and it’s endearing, they trust him not to say anything and he locks his door behind him, leaves the key in, in case Jester decides to pay him a midnight visit. She’ll have to knock.  
He takes a detour to the guest room, to Molly’s room, picks his favourite blanket from the pile at the bottom of the bed. Molly’s room, really, but when he stayed with Fjord it was never where he slept.   
The boundaries in this group are smudged beyond recognition, Fjord thinks dimly as he flutters the blanket over Molly and Beau. Molly stirs and groans a little, but settles quickly, and there’s the telltale shift of Beau tightening her grip on him. Fjord smiles, just a little, and leaves them be. Heads into his room and kicks off his clothes to change, he’s never been so glad to sleep.

 

Caleb spends the next two days reading and scribbling in a little notebook that Yasha drops off for him, working things out and planning up for Jester. He doesn’t leave his bed much, he’s still sick, but by Friday night he’s feeling stronger and stretches as he makes his way into the main room.  
“There’s a sandwich in the fridge for you.” Nott says absently, hears him tread up behind her, and he ducks down to kiss the top of her head in thanks as he passes.   
He takes the sandwich from the fridge, pulls himself on the countertop to eat, and gets through his first mouthful before he talks,   
“I will be going to see Jester in just a moment, will you be joining me?”   
He hears Nott pull herself up and trot through to him, she leans on the counter, her chin only just able to rest.   
“Why are you going to see Jester? Are you sick? Do you need healing?”   
Caleb frowns in confusion.   
“Healing? Why would I go to Jester for that?”   
“Because she’s the healer?” Nott is just as confused, it doesn’t click until a few seconds later that Caleb had been _unconscious_ for the whole debacle of Jester being The Cleric.   
“Oh, Jester has an interest in medicine? I would not have- have assumed, she does not seem like the type.”   
“She’s the _cleric_.” Nott smiles with the smug air of pride she reserves usually for Caleb, and he nods, takes another bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. Swallows,   
“I still would not have guessed.” And returns to snacking as they fall into amicable silence.

 

When Caleb arrives at Jester’s door, she lets him in to her dim main room, presses a finger to her lips and leads him past.  
Beau, Molly, and Fjord are all slung out and tangled on her couch, some movie that Caleb doesn’t recognise on the TV. Beau raises a hand in greeting, Fjord hums, and Caleb disappears into Jester’s room with little more than a quick twitch.   
“I don’t think that Mollymauk is particularly happy with me at the moment.” Caleb gives a sad, strained smile as Jester sits on her bed with a flump, gestures at a beanbag chair that he sits on and regrets, immediately. He sinks a few inches, cramped up by long legs and spindly arms and takes a moment to rearrange his limbs so that he looks less like a dead spider.   
“Why do you think that?” Jester cocks her head, completely baffled, and Caleb gives a chuckle as his answer runs through his head and he realises how pathetic it sounds.   
“He didn’t say hello.”   
“Oh, he’s asleep.” Jester’s bafflement turns to that sunny, sunny grin, “He hasn’t left Beau since you woke up.”   
“I thought-” Caleb shakes his head, dispels the fog, “-Anyway. I finished- I finished the log book.”   
He hands over the ledger and his notebook, “What time do you want me tomorrow?”   
“The café opens at nine.” Jester smiles as she flicks through the books. “I go in at seven-thirty, you can catch a ride with me and Molly if you want!”   
“Mollymauk?”   
“Yes!” Jester pulls her eyes back to him from the books, “Molly works at a tattoo parlor down the street, you should see his work, it’s very good.”   
Caleb’s mind calls up the numerous tattoos already inked into Molly’s skin, or at least the ones he’s seen. The peacock, the snake, the flowers, and the edge of a sun, peeking across Molly’s collarbone.   
That’s a curious feeling.   
Caleb doesn’t like it.   
“He designs, as well as works, I assume?”   
“He does! He makes very nice designs, though he seems to be an acquired taste.” She frowns a little, possible sadness, “ _I_ like what Molly does.”   
“You have not been to him for a tattoo?”   
Jester laughs, light and nervous and uncharacteristic,   
“I don’t like needles much. I’m considering it, though! But my point is, are you riding with us?”   
Caleb chews at the inside of his cheek in consideration.   
“I am concerned that I won’t be able to wake up in time.”   
“Set an alarm.” Jester shrugs, and Caleb gives a tense smile,   
“I do not have a phone. Or an alarm clock.”   
“Oh, that’s no problem!” She chirps and goes for her drawer, there’s rumbling and clattering as she scoops aside various things and gives a pleased hum when she finds what she’s looking for. She throws something small and rectangular at Caleb, and goes back, winding her fingers through wires and withdrawing the plug to charge the phone he’d just caught.   
“Jester.” He says, seriously, “I can’t accept this.”   
“No, you _need_ to. Because you’ll be late for work otherwise!” Jester smiles at him, “And I’ll give you my number on the ride over, you’ll need to charge that for a while.”   
Caleb stares at the phone and blinks as tears spring up.   
He looks back up to Jester.   
“Thank you.”   
Jester just grins back at him.   
He likes her, too.

 


	7. Point Of Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb Remembers, and wishes he didn't.  
> At least Molly is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings  
>  **This chapter contains self-harm**

Caleb leaves as quietly as he came. Molly is still out, turned around now so that he’s sprawled less on Beau’s shoulder and more curled to Fjord’s chest. Caleb thinks, briefly, that Fjord would be much like Jester- he would make an excellent pillow.  
Fjord smiles at him as he passes, one arm looped around Molly, and Caleb smiles back over that acrid taste at the back of his tongue.  
  
When he gets back to his own apartment, Yasha and Nott are there, hovering over a little book of flowers and muttering in low discussion. Caleb overhears snippets, bits about gods and flower meanings and Nott commenting on which of the flowers are the prettiest, which are edible. Yasha chuckles at that bit, it seems an information that she was unaware of, and Nott seems well-versed in the alchemical and herbological properties of each plant they look at.  
“Oh, hello, Caleb.” Yasha looks over her shoulder briefly, then back to the book, “There’s something on the side for you. Molly’s treat.”  
“More gifts.” Caleb says with a grimace. He’s starting to feel _very_ bad about all of this.  
He shuffles into the kitchen alcove, sitting next to the fridge is a very prettily-wrapped, bottle-shaped present with a gift tag and extravagantly curled ribbons.  
“Where did he find the time for this?” Caleb tries very hard to make himself sound exasperated, and he is, a little bit. But mostly, he feels a headrush of affection for the tiefling.   
The gift tag says _Get Well Soon! Don’t drink too much <3 - Molly _ and Caleb can’t fight the smile.  
“He has a rough sleeping schedule.” Yasha sounds mostly amused, “And before you open it, I want you to know that I didn’t tell him. He just guessed.”  
Caleb takes a knife from the drawer to slip up the back of the bow. The bundle of spiralled ribbons at the front _could_ be untied, but he likes it, Molly has obviously spent time on making sure each little tail is perfectly coiled, and Caleb wants to keep it. And, since he has the knife now, he slips it carefully into the join and through the tape, rather than tearing. He’s not a _barbarian_ for fucks sake.  
The paper comes away slowly, but easily.  
Molly has bought Caleb a bottle of whiskey. His favourite, too, which there is _no_ way he could have known- sure, Yasha could be lying to him when she says she hasn’t mentioned it, but nobody knows which brand is his favourite. Except Molly, apparently, that intuitive bastard.  
Caleb sighs gratefully and stuffs the paper in the bin, collects up the ribbon and the bottle and shuffles through into the main room.  
“Don’t tell him I opened it.” He requests of Yasha, “I want to thank him myself.”  
“Of course.” Yasha smiles distantly, eyes on the page, she drags her fingers across the picture of the _Blue Moon_ rose, “Are you riding with him?”  
“ _Ja_ , seven-thirty, according to Jester.”  
“Molly doesn’t get up until ten minutes before he’s meant to leave, it’s more like quarter to.” Yasha tells him, tinge of amusement and wisdom to her voice. Nott looks between them,  
“Is it your first day at work tomorrow?” She asks Caleb, and he nods,  
“Jester has said that Mollymauk will give me a- a ride, to the café.”  
“He drives like a madman.” Yasha pipes up to warn, “Make sure you’re buckled in.”  
“I will _definitely_ do that.” Caleb gives her an odd, lopsided smile, “Thank you.”  
“Good luck.” Yasha says, as means of farewell, and Caleb slips into his own room.

His _own_ room, with _his_ blanket, _his_ cloak, _his_ familiar, who makes chirps of protest as Caleb comes and sits down and holds the ribbon out of reach of his little batting paws.  
“This is not one to be played with.” He smiles at Frumpkin, uses one hand to fuss the cat, and the other to tuck the ribbon underneath his pillow. Once it’s safe, he carefully opens the whiskey bottle and takes a tentative swig.  
It’s delicious. It always is. It burns like hell on the way down but the flavour is so good and familiar that for a moment, Caleb forgets who, what, and where he is. When he comes back to himself, he finds the closest plug socket to turn on his new phone and set the alarm, it beeps softly at him when he taps shaking fingers to the screen and the background is a photograph of Fjord and Yasha lifting Beau on their shoulders like they’re her throne. It draws a smile from him.  
  
Slowly, Caleb becomes acutely aware that there’s something missing from his room. It’s nothing physical. It’s a sensation, he’s sure of that.  
  
He can’t figure out _what the fuck it is_ , though, and he frowns as he tucks away the whiskey bottle somewhere Nott won’t find it, and changes out of his clothes. He’s still pondering, frustrated over what it could be when he pulls the Cloak off of the desk and wraps himself up-  the first breath being swathed in it smells like damp cloth and lavender, lingering from Molly leaning on him days ago.  
He curls up into bed with Frumpkin at the back of his neck, the scent lingers. His frustrations are gone, and sleep comes easily.

 

He wakes, bleary-eyed, at seven the next morning.  The phone that Jester has given him beeps lazily, and he grumbles to himself as he scooches out of bed to turn off the alarm.  
Frumpkin has disappeared under the bed as a show of protest, and no amount of gentle coaxing will tempt him out, so Caleb instead wanders around him. Picks up his shed clothes from the night before, puts them in a neat pile to be washed, gets new clothes out, and shuffles to the shower, yawning.

  
He keeps his morning shower on the cooler side, enough to wake him up a little but not enough to truly shock. The little lavender bottle that was very obviously a Molly gift still tempts him, and it’s that which he chooses to rub into his hair, humming as he does so.  
His mind wanders a little, just the fringes of his control. His thoughts hone in on the sensation of fingers rubbing through his hair, and he feels a brief pang of loss and hurt and panic as he realises that he misses having someone behind him, someone to lather and rinse for him as they talked.  
  
He thinks of Eodwulf.  
  
He takes his hands from his head and lets the shower run over him, directly, to wash out the last of the soap suds, because it feels like he’s breathing in water instead of air as he tries to fight through the memories. He swears he can still feel the ghosting touch of Eodwulf’s fingers. On his head, his neck, down his back, and he tries to arch away but they follow him.  
He does the next best thing and scratches wherever he feels the touch. Starts at his back and then his neck and his head, and he scratches harder, and harder, until it burns so much that he can’t feel anything there but pain any more.  
The touches drift down his arms and he scratches there, too, scrubs away the sensation of Eodwulf, anything that holds him to his past and it burns and there’s blood under his fingernails and the water running into the plughole is tinged a pale orange-red from the runoff of his hair but the sensations finally, finally fucking _stop._ So he runs his fingers through his hair a few more times to rinse out any blood that may cling, brushes water over each area that still burns, and turns the shower off.  
Without the need for the distraction, the burning isn’t a pleasant relief any more. It hurts. And he’s going to have to wear long sleeves, by the looks of his arms, but that’s okay. That’s almost exclusively what he wears, anyway, his shirt for the day is a button-up long sleeved black one.  
He keeps the towel around himself tight as he inches out of the shower to his room, in case Nott should come out. He doesn’t want her to see the mess he’s made of himself.

 

By the time he’s dressed, it’s seven twenty-five and although Yasha has warned him that Molly will be late, he takes his phone and slips out anyway, heads straight to Molly’s apartment. He knocks, light, quieter than he usually would. Molly pulls the door open to him, toothbrush in his mouth and shirtless, he smiles for Caleb anyway, gestures for him to follow and heads in.  
Caleb shuts the door behind him and follows Molly as he heads through the maze of his apartment to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.  
Caleb leans up against the doorjamb in silence and studies the tattoos.  
There’s more than he’d originally seen. There’s the snake twining down his arm, the peacock over his right shoulder, and many more flowers than he’d originally thought. At a quick glance, Caleb spots a lotus flower under his right shoulder blade, a scattering of white and pink roses, the odd violet and morning glory, and spaces filled intermittently with little blue forget-me-nots. The sun, he notices now, is entwined with the moon, and it’s familiar, too much so. There’s an arrow through both, and he can’t quite pull up what that means right now, he documents it for later. There’s a pyramid, too, and that makes him smile a little. He should have pinned Molly as that kind of person, doesn’t know why he didn’t in the first place.  
Molly finishes rinsing his mouth out and turns to Caleb with that ridiculous smile of his,  
“How are you?”  
Caleb turns inward to study himself for an honest answer. And right now, Caleb find that he’s… happy. Mollymauk, patient, doting Mollymauk, smiles at him from his bathroom, he has a purpose and place to be that is nothing to do with his history, and people that say that they care about him.  
And then he shifts, and the fabric rubs against his scratches, and he winces. Molly notices, flickers, steps in a little closer.  
“Should I ask?”  
Caleb shakes his head.  
“I just ache.” He half-lies, “I feel… comfortable, at least, for the moment.”  
Molly’s smile is back to full strength as he slips past Caleb and turns for his room. And then pauses. And turns back.  
Caleb hears a short series of sniffs.  
“Lavender.” Molly quirks an eyebrow at Caleb, and if he’s flushing just a little, it’s purely due to the strain of brushing his damn teeth.  
“Lavender?” Caleb parrots, a hint of nerves to his words.  
“You smell of lavender.” Molly says, matter-of-fact. Is it warm in here? It’s probably warm in here. At seven thirty in the morning.  
“Ah- yes, I, Nott- Nott has allowed me to use the, the shampoo you gave her. Something about lavender, lately, is comforting.”  
Is it wishful thinking? Molly’s brain processes it as both yes and no, the idea that lavender, something very inherently _Molly_ , has become comforting to Caleb. Could it be associated with Molly himself?  
“How recently?” Molly asks as he turns away and heads into his room for a shirt. Caleb follows.  
He likes Molly’s room.  
Caleb shrugs, though Molly can’t see it.  
“Since I arrived here, I think.” He answers aloud, “There was not a lot of- of coin, spare for the oils and perfumes, before I had a place to call mine.”  
Oh, that hurts Molly right in the heart. He pauses, halfway through tugging his shirt on.  
“What’s your stance on physical stuff today?”  
Caleb gives a non-committal hum from the doorway, his eyes drop to his feet. He needs new shoes.  
“Specifically,” Molly pulls his shirt on properly, “Could I hug you?”  
Caleb’s shoulders draw up, defensive, and Molly gives him a smile he doesn’t see.  
“It’s okay to say no.”  
Caleb wants that hug. Badly. Craves it, even, maybe the weight of Molly around his shoulders would help. And he looks as though he’d give such wonderful hugs, too.  
“I-” Caleb tries, and it doesn’t work. He sighs, “Not right now, no. I’m sorry, Mollymauk.”  
“Don’t be.” Molly assures, wandering up anyway, grabs a flannel overshirt from his desk, “I’d rather you were honest, than I make you uncomfortable.”  
Caleb catches Molly’s wrist as he passes, and almost smiles at the ripple of shock that visibly runs through him.  
“I- hm. Mollymauk, would you- would-” How can he ask of Molly _anything_ , he hasn’t even thanked him for the whiskey, there’s so much wrong.  
Molly eases his wrist up and out of Caleb’s hand, and is shocked again when Caleb’s fingers curl around his own.  
“Oh.” He says, softly, and looks down at their hands with wide eyes. Caleb gulps on his own silence. Molly’s gaze drifts, slowly, up Caleb’s arm and shoulder and neck, until red eyes can meet blue and he sees just how worried Caleb is.  
“That’s fine.” Molly tells him, slow and calm, as though Caleb is a horse about to bolt, “You need to hold my hand?”  
Caleb doesn’t even nod, it’s just the slightest twitch of an eyelid and another gulp, Molly watches the bob in Caleb’s throat and twists his hand in Caleb’s, until he can take it, gently. He doesn’t lace their fingers, keeps his grip light, in case Caleb needs out quickly.  
“Thank you.” Caleb says, and his voice is hoarse with stress and fought tears. Molly squishes his hand in reply and pulls, and they leave together.

  
They bump into Jester at the door to the stairwell, she’s leaning up against the wall on her phone, typing furiously, and looks up in shock when she hears footsteps.  
“Oh! Molly, you’re on time.”  
Caleb watches her eyes flit over them, inspecting, and zero in on their clasped hands. He expects from her, a joke, some reference to the fact, an implication, but she just seems to shrug it off.  
“Caleb, if you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to start today.” Is the only thing she says, and Caleb stares for a few seconds in surprise. Molly squeezes his hand, and he clears his throat,  
“No- I had, I had a rough morning, but it’s fine now. It’s okay. I’m ready.”  
“Okay, well,” Jester waves as she turns and heads down the stairs, Molly and Caleb follow, “You’ll have your own office at the back of the building, if you need me, I’ll be baking in the kitchen. You can have two coffees- special offer.” She turns to wink at him over her shoulder, “And any pastry or cake, but only one a day! We don’t make enough profit to feed you.”  
This Jester shocks Caleb. She’s so teasing, generally, even a little flirtatious and light in her ways, but this Jester is serious. Business.  
“Thank you.” He tells her, as she and Molly round a corner he’s unfamiliar with and pull him along.  
  
“You’ll have to let go of my hand whilst I’m driving.” Molly smiles at Caleb without turning, just looking from the corner of his eye, and Caleb smiles back. His anxiety had dropped mostly away, about three flights of stairs down. Now, he’s just enjoying the familiar, pleasant sensation.  
“You can hold my hand instead!” Jester chirrups, and there’s the Jester he knows. She grins, waggles her fingers at him from beside a car- deep blue, there’s peacock feather decals on the hood and Caleb doesn’t need to ask if it’s Molly’s car because it’s so damn obvious.  
“You know, Jester,” Caleb says as Molly squishes and releases, “I think that I would appreciate that.”  
Molly unlocks the car, Jester makes a pleased, surprised noise. She and Caleb both get in the back, opposite sides, and there’s quiet as they all clip themselves in.  
Caleb offers his hand across the empty middle seat.  
Jester takes it.  
The first thing to hit Caleb is how cold her hands are, and this comes as a shockingly overwhelming relief. Eodwulf was always warm, all three of them were, it was always a byproduct of the magic, but Jester is almost icy. It’s a change, a juxtaposition, and it chases away all of those lingering memories. He’s in _Mollymauk Tealeaf’s car_ , heading to a job, in a  new life.

  
He’ll fix what he’s done in the past, but until then, he can enjoy his future.

 


	8. It Could Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> City life is unkind to Caleb. His friends are not.

Caleb discovers that Yasha was right.  
Mollymauk drives like he’s on the run from the police, screeching around corners, and after the third coma-inducing near u-turn, he leans over to pull a lollipop out of the glove compartment- mindful of the knife- and flicks the wrapper off one-handed, and puts it in his mouth just in time to clap his hand back to the wheel and careen around the fourth.   
Jester is trying not to yelp with the grip that Caleb has on her hand. His knuckles are white, he’s cutting off her blood supply.   
They pull into a parking lot and Molly kills the engine.   
“Mollymauk.” Caleb’s voice cracks, he leans on the car for support as the others climb out, unphased. His legs shake.   
“Yes, Caleb?” Molly gives him that winning smile, and Caleb glares daggers.   
“Where in the name of the _Gods_ did you get your license?”   
Molly shrugs at that, pulls it out and studies it. He looks to Caleb, very briefly, and then back down as he puts it away.   
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And he’s walking away, waving his lollipop as he goes, and Caleb calls after him,   
“Yes! I would! Please!” But he rounds a corner and is gone, and Jester giggles.   
“Come on, we need to get to work. Can you bake?”   
“That is not in the job description.” Caleb raises his eyebrows, but he smiles a little, “I have some knowledge.”   
“Could you help me out? _Pretty please_? Just for this morning, please please please?”   
Caleb laughs and relents, Jester loops her arm with his and he finds that he’s surprisingly okay with that. She unlocks the door to a cute café, pink swirly sign, inside he sees a smattering of intricately carved wooden chairs, a fairytale scene if he ever saw one.

  
They spend the next hour baking. Cookies, mostly, are what Caleb is restrained to, he takes things out of the ovens and puts them in, measures ingredients. After the first batch come out, perfectly cooked, because Caleb is _just that good_ , she takes to the decorating.   
The bell at the door rings, and Jester puts down the icing bag, dusts her hands off,   
“Keep your eyes on those cupcakes.” She warns Caleb, and heads through to the main shop. He does as he’s bidden. They’re almost ready to come out anyway.  
  
He hears chattering from the other room, it grows briefly excited, and hushed, and then Jester comes back with someone else in tow. Someone that Caleb recognises by sight from the photographs on Molly’s wall.   
“Hello.” They wave at him, a draconic tail lashes excitedly back and forth close to the floor though he can tell they’re trying hard to keep it out of sight.   
“Caleb, this is Cali!” Jester spreads her fingers as she gestures, emphasising Cali, though it seems that the poor thing just wants to shuffle into the shadows. She tilts, a little, half-elven ear twitching as it becomes the dominant side.   
“Cali,” Caleb nods in greeting, “You- you do not need to worry, about hiding- Molly has a photograph of you in his room, I’ve seen…” He gestures to the floor, where Cali’s tail has stilled. She seems to relax, turning back to face him head-on and jolts forward. She doesn’t touch him, but flits around, excited,   
“Your shirt is nice. Where’d you get it? The cakes smell _lovely_ , Jester! Oh, Mister Caleb, I love your hair. What shampoo do you use?”   
It’s such a sudden change that Caleb flinches, though Cali doesn’t seem to notice.  
  
Cali stills. Sniffs.  
  
“Cupcakes.” She points at the accused oven with her left arm, and Caleb is so focused on the slowly burning cupcakes that he doesn’t realise its draconic nature until he turns back with the tray in his gloved hands. By then, Cali has tucked it back into her cloak, but Caleb doesn’t push it.   
Jester clucks at the singed edges of the cupcakes, and Caleb sputters through an apology that stretches out so long that Jester has to take the tray in a towel-covered hand and shove his shoulder.   
“You’re too worked up!” She tells him firmly, “Take a break. Go and see Molly. Be back before nine fifteen.”   
“I- I’m fine, Jester, I’m just- sorry. I should have been watching-”   
“I’ll save you a cake.” She promises him, takes his shoulder and steers him out of her kitchen, “I’ll save you plenty, you and Cali can eat that batch. Go and see Molly, or I’m firing you.”   
She keeps the lilt of a joke to her voice, but Caleb still winces a little. He wouldn’t put it past her.   
She pats his arm.   
“I won’t _actually_ fire you, but he’s said he misses you the past couple of days. So go and see Molly. I’ll make you a coffee for the walk.”

  
Jester does as she promises, presses the warm takeaway cup into his hands, and shoos him away.   
Caleb heads out into the cool morning air. The autumn sun is pale and weak, but the day is cool, not cold, and Caleb finds days like this pleasant.   
He heads down the street, away from the car park. Molly had walked this way, too, he’s sure he’ll find the tattoo parlor easily enough.  
  
As it happens, Molly finds _him_. He spots Caleb from the opposite side of the road as he’s putting the sign out, and calls across to him,   
“Hey! Lost your way?”   
Caleb looks over at his sharp grin as he stands, shields his eyes from the morning sunlight with one hand, and it’s not as though Caleb hasn’t noticed before how pretty Mollymauk is, but this is a new level.

Or maybe Caleb just has a weak spot for the flannel.

The sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, it’s mostly loose around him and the red stands out so much it would hurt his eyes if it was on anyone but Molly.  
Caleb finds himself smiling back. He waves over at Molly with the cup of coffee- it’s _very_ good, Jester put in an extra pump of vanilla for him.  
  
Caleb moves to cross the road, is almost all of the way across when the car turns out of nowhere and careens down the street at top speed. Straight toward him.  
  
“Caleb- fuck, watch out!”  
  
There’s a hand on his arm and he’s _yanked_ out of the road so hard he swears his shoulder briefly pops out of its socket and he hits the ground before Molly can catch him.  
  
The cup hits the floor too.   
  
And it explodes. Everywhere.   
Molly yelps and jumps back, manages to avoid the worst of it, mostly thanks to the ridiculous thigh-high boots that Caleb has noticed he seems to favour, they appear waterproof and the majority of the coffee that hits Molly splatters over them. Caleb, however, is not so lucky and he stands under the noise of the car horn honking its protest, dripping coffee from his brand new work shirt and gasping.   
“Oh, darling, oh, Caleb- are you okay? Are you hurt? Is it hot?”   
It’s not. Jester had made it cooler, Caleb had asked her to make it cooler. And aside from his shoulder and ass aching a little with the pulling and the falling, he’s otherwise unharmed. And it could have been so much worse. But he’s dripping wet with coffee.   
“I don’t- I didn’t think I would need- clothes-”   
Molly hushes him gently, holds a hand up,   
“Stay there a moment.”   
He disappears inside, and Caleb is left on the street, dripping coffee, breathing heavily, and feeling his anxiety ramp up a little further every time he breathes in.  
  
And then Molly appears around the side of the building.  
  
“Caleb.” He calls, softly, and Caleb whips around to him. Molly beckons, “This way.”   
Caleb scurries into the alleyway behind Molly, lets the tiefling lead him in the back entrance of the tattoo parlor.   
“In here.”  
  
It’s a staff toilet, clearly, it can just about fit the two of them in. The mirror is a little grimy, and Caleb deliberately avoids looking at it, slips along the wall as far as he can get as Molly damps a cloth in the tiny sink.   
“Put the seat down and _sit_.” Molly’s tone is demanding, and Caleb obeys numbly, still completely absent, eyes hollow as he battles his increasing terror.   
Molly turns back to him and begins, gently, to dab the coffee from his face and hair.   
“You don’t smell like lavender any more.” he says, gentle and affectionate, he swipes down Caleb’s cheek. Caleb gives a weak breath of laughter.   
“As for your shirt, that’s easily- well, easily enough. Would you prefer the flannel or…” Molly pinches at the linen he’s wearing, the same style he usually wears, with the three-quarter sleeves and the lacing at the front.   
Caleb swallows hard, there’s a croak as he tries to reply and it fails in his throat. Molly’s smile turns a little bit sideways, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Caleb’s forehead.  
  
“Why don’t you take that one off, first? It’s soaked.”   
Caleb stands in the cramped space, unbuttons, carefully, down the shirt, not even sure of where his head is any more. It’s not wherever his body is, that he knows for certain.   
As the damp shirt _plops_ to the floor, he becomes acutely aware of the stinging. Water on cuts and scratches is bad enough, the coffee is _worse_ , like acid. It’s in his hair, the scratches down his head smart, all down his shoulders and arms, too.   
  
His stolen necklace feels so much colder against his skin when he’s not wearing his shirt.  
  
Molly has turned away to rinse and re-damp the cloth and shed his flannel, and when he turns back, he jumps so much that he nearly drops the cloth.   
“Oh.” He says, soft, and Caleb is part of his own body just enough now for alarm bells to start ringing in his aching head.   
He shrinks in, tries to cover the scratches with mumbled apologies and Molly hushes him softly. He says nothing else at first, just edges his hand around one of Caleb’s wrists and lifts so that he can run the cloth lightly down his arm, where he cleans, the coffee stops stinging so bad and Caleb lets him do as he will, because he’s making things better.   
He switches to the other arm to do the same, daubs gently across Caleb’s collarbone, concern is written into his face.   
“Are there any others?” He says, the first time he’s really spoken since Caleb shed his shirt, and Caleb nods.   
“My- my head, and, and back.”   
Molly winces  and chews his lip as he thinks.   
“In your hair?”   
“ _Ja_.”   
“I’ll try my best. Let me know if I hurt you.” and turns Caleb around with a light touch. His back isn’t so bad, just what’s dripped down from his hair, and that doesn’t take long to clean up. His head, though, is a different story. Molly daubs where Caleb’s fingers run, and watches Caleb’s shoulders tighten every time he flinches. He apologises, softly, continues and finally, he’s able to plop the cloth back into the sink.   
  
He doesn’t know how long Caleb has been here.   
  
He’s sure he’s meant to be out the front.   
  
He’s going to have to bullshit _so hard_.  
  
“Here. Arm.” Molly’s voice is soft, he helps Caleb slip into Molly’s flannel overshirt, turns him around when his arms are in and buttons it up from the bottom. Caleb watches him work, he’s so dedicated and he’s concentrating so hard on each button. The shirt is a little too big for Caleb, width-wise, the sleeves a little loose but they’re long, and that’s the important part. Molly comes to the top button and finishes with a little flourish, so when he draws back, Caleb isn’t meeting his eyes.   
The shirt is nice, though. It smells like lavender. Everything that Molly owns smells like lavender.   
It’s relaxing.   
“I’ll see you later.” Molly says, softly, his fingers curl to fists at his side with the effort not to touch anymore, “I take lunch at one. And if I don’t catch you then, I’ll see you at six to run you home. Come around tonight?”   
“I- _ja_ , I will need to give you the, the shirt-”   
“Keep it.” Molly smiles, there’s a sick, concerned look behind it, but the care there is genuine, “It suits you.”   
He lets Caleb out of the back door and watches him scurry away up the street. And he takes Caleb’s ruined shirt from the floor, shoves it in the bin in the alley, swipes the cloth along the puddle it’s left on the floor. Comes out of the toilet, huffing exhaustedly.   
  
“ _Mollymauk_.” from the door to the main room. Molly winces a little. Gustav.   
  
“Yes, sorry, was, uh- not well, you know?” Molly tries, the sick, nervous smile helping his cause this time.   
Gustav’s stern expression fades, a little.   
“Everything okay? Do you need to go home?”   
“No!” Molly says, pulls his hands up quickly, “No. It helped, I feel better now.”   
Gustav squints at him for a moment, scrutinising, and then jerks his head to the front.   
“Alright. Hurry up, then; Nancy is in and she won’t take anyone but you.”   
Molly only smiles, wipes his hands on the bits of his jeans that he can manage, and heads through.

 

Caleb slips back into the café just before nine-thirty. Cali is behind the counter, she waves when he enters and then tilts her head, shocked. He comes past her.  
“New shirt?”   
“Yes, ah- coffee spill.” He smiles at her, and if she notices how sickly it is, she doesn’t comment. Just sniffs.   
“Mister Mollymauk’s?”   
Caleb gives a half-strained, partially genuine laugh that sounds more like a choke.   
“ _Ja_. Where would I be without him?”   
He slips around her, toward Jester’s kitchen, and hears behind him faintly,   
“Where would we all?”

 

“Jester.” He greets as he comes into the kitchen. She greets _him_ with a feral growl.   
How the tides have changed in forty-five minutes. Jester, now, has streaks of powered sugar across her face, and her hair is pulled into a tiny ponytail, contained within a hair net. It’s a sight to behold, if he’s honest.   
She looks over, briefly, and pauses the piping she’s working on.   
“That’s Molly’s favourite shirt!” She says, shock on her face, “What happened?”   
“Many things.” Caleb gives her a tired smile, wills her not to press. No such luck.   
“What things? You must be _pretty_ special for him to give you that. Or he must feel _really_ bad.” She gasps, “ _What did he do_? Did he hurt you? I’ll punch him out.”   
“Jester.” Caleb’s _soothing_ voice attempt just sounds annoyed, “I don’t think that Mollymauk could hurt me if he tried. I was almost hit by a car, Mollymauk pulled me out of the way, and I spilled my coffee. That is all.”   
She squints, looks him up and down.   
“Back room’s unlocked.” as she relents and turns back to her piping work. Caleb gives a soft sigh of relief, and grabs one of the slightly burnt cupcakes from the tray, before scooting quickly out and through to the back room.   
There’s _mathematics_ to be done.

 

 _Out for lunch, back in 15 <3 _   
Jester puts the sign up in the window and stretches, Caleb hears her shoulder pop,   
“It’s been _too long_ since i did that much.” She says, and pouts a little. It’s been non-stop in the café all morning, and if it wasn’t for Jester’s exhaustion, Caleb doesn’t think it would have stopped.   
“How- how long does Mollymauk get for his lunch break?” Caleb asks neither of them in particular, and it’s Cali that answers,   
“Half an hour! Three quarters, if Gustav is feeling nice.” She smiles brightly, stunningly Jester in nature, and Caleb nods.   
“Gustav is, his boss?”   
“Yes! Gustav is _really_ nice, he’s very kind.” Jester chirrups, loops her arm through Cali’s as she speaks, “Do you want to bring Molly with us?”   
“We only have fifteen minutes…” Caleb drawls, and Jester waves dismissively,   
“That’s just me and Cali, we need to work the actual café. You can take longer, if you want?”   
Caleb considers it. He does want to see Molly, owes him a serious drink. And a _thank you,_ he still hasn’t given Molly one of those for the whiskey.   
“We will see.” He tells Jester as she rounds them into a little bakery.

 

Caleb ends up going to the tattoo parlor once Jester and Cali leave. He’s still swallowing the last mouthful of croissant when he slips in the door as quietly as possible,  unable to avoid the gently tinkling bell, and a long-haired half-elven man turns his head up from a book.  
“Hello, I, um-” Caleb tries and stutters off, keeps himself pressed to the window   
“Are you looking to book an appointment?” The half-elf asks, and then catches sight of Caleb’s shirt.   
“I, actually, am looking for-”   
“Molly? He went out for lunch just after one. Try _Sugar Sweet_ , he has friends there.” The half-elf gives him a smile, a genuine smile, and Caleb’s answering smile is uneasy.   
“Thank you.” He manages, and slips out of the door backwards as the half-elf- assumedly Gustav- returns to his book.

  
Caleb heads back to the Café. _Sugar Sweet_ , he’d not noticed the name before, he does now as he comes into the store. There are a handful of people in, light conversation that loosely fills the room, and alone in the corner is Mollymauk. His hair is bound back, sipping from a mug, with one of Jester’s brownies half-eaten on a plate in front of him. He stares at the chair in front of him, a tiny two-person table, but doesn’t look up when Caleb enters.   
Cali does, though, and waves pleasantly. Caleb goes to her first, gets himself a coffee, and makes his way carefully to sit across from Molly.   
The tiefling jumps when Caleb sets his cup down, looks up in shock and, Caleb thinks, a little terror. He relaxes when he spots Caleb, though, smiles.   
“Caleb! What a lovely surprise, Cali told me you were out for lunch.”   
“I went looking for _you_.” Caleb replies, his own small smile forming, “Gustav told me that you would be here.”   
“Ah, you met Gustav?”   
“ _Ja_ , he seems, very intuitive.”   
Molly gives a gentle, affectionate smile, his eyes turn distant and misty again.   
“He’s a good man.”   
Caleb sips his coffee.   
“I owe you a- a coffee. And some thanks.”   
Molly gives a trill of question over the top of his tea mug, and Caleb keeps his eyes deliberately on the table.   
“For the whiskey. You put so- so much effort into it, and you, you knew my favourite _brand_ \- how?”   
“I took a lucky guess based on what I know about you.” Molly shrugs, “Flighty, probably a rough history, nightmares. So strong. But sweet, too, I saw the syrup. Probably expensive, since you were careful with the luxuries of life. There’s a few brands that fit that bill, I just took pot luck from there.”   
Caleb smiles at the table.   
“You were right.”   
“I’m glad to know that.”   
They fall to quiet again, no talking, just sipping. Caleb watches Molly’s hands on the table, he drums a soft pattern on the table with the pads of his fingers.   
Time edges on, they sip calmly, until Molly looks up at the little clock on the wall and groans.   
“I need to get back to work.”   
Caleb follows his eyes.   
“I should do the same.”   
They drain their cups, Caleb picks up the plates, cups, platters, settles them all in the crook of his arm as they stand.   
“I’ll see you later.” Molly smiles at Caleb, his shoulder brushes Caleb’s as he passes. Caleb fights the urge to lean into him.   
He’ll have to pay Fjord a visit later.   
Once Molly leaves, Caleb drops off their plates in the sink and gets to scrubbing. He doesn’t need to. He knows he doesn’t need to. But he rolls his sleeves halfway up his forearm, just long enough to hide the marks, and works away for Jester, anyway.

 

By the time the end of their work day rolls around, they’re all exhausted. Molly meets them in the café, yawning, an energy drink clamped in one hand. Caleb comes out to meet him first, leans against his shoulder up against the window of the café.  
“Feeling better?” Molly asks him softly, rubs his cheek to the top of Caleb’s head. Caleb gives a non-committal hum in response, closes his eyes as he waits.   
It’s interrupted all too soon, Jester comes out with her arm around Cali, giggling wildly, and Caleb sits upright before she can spot him.   
“Hey, Molly! Any chance of giving Cali a lift?” Jester beams at Molly, who pretends to think about it.   
“Oh, please, Mister Mollymauk!” Cali’s tail waves behind her, “I love the way you drive!”   
Caleb gives a brief bark of laughter, and Molly grins,   
“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Of course, come on.”   
Caleb is kicked shotgun, Jester and Cali crowd into the back, giggling and chattering. They take a moment longer that Molly and Caleb to climb in, and Molly takes that for all its worth, leans across and sets his hand to Caleb’s wrist.   
He tries to talk.   
Nothing comes out.   
Jester’s door opens to Cali’s giggling, and Molly pulls his hands back to the wheel, beeps the horn just enough to encourage the girls to get in the fucking car.

  


Caleb shuffles first into his own apartment. He wants a drink, something to eat, and Nott is there when he goes in. On a phone.   
He didn’t know she had a phone.   
He doesn’t question it, exactly, just comes up and leans on the back of her chair.   
“Do you know how to find your own number?”   
She startles a little bit, looks up to him,   
“How was work? Yes, I know.”   
Caleb hands her his phone, “Work was fine. I spilled coffee down myself and Mollymauk had to give me his shirt.” He gives a vague smile, Nott begins to click away on his phone, and then on her phone, and then a short jingle fills the room.   
“You have my contact, now.” She tells him chiefly, “And Beau’s, and Jester’s.” and hands him it back.   
“Thank you, Nott.” He kisses the top of her head and shuffles back to the kitchen to get himself a snack, “I will be going to see Mollymauk shortly.”   
“Anything important?” Nott leans over the back of her chair, her wide, yellow eyes fixed on him. Caleb gives an absent smile.   
“I don’t think so.”   
She settles back into her chair as he eats, a packet of cookies that he knows Nott likes the least. They have nuts in, not the most pleasant cookies he’s ever eaten, but it’s only recently that he’s been a chooser and not a beggar. He isn’t fussy.

Between that and a can of cheap beer from the fridge, Caleb’s lunch is _sorted_. He pulls another two cans free of the pack, chugs the last of his half-finished one, and heads to the door. And then stops, with an idea, heads to his room to collect something and tuck it into one of the plastic carrier bags that Nott seems to be hoarding, along with the cans, and a pack of cookies.   
He pauses at the door.   
“See you later, Nott.”   
“Bye, Caleb.” She calls back, and he slips out.

 


	9. Against All Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [We're Still Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrP5ZxeGQmc), Caleb finds Molly telling him. Could it stay like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you'll want to listen to the song for this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrP5ZxeGQmc)  
>  this is the song the fic is based off of!

Caleb is learning to navigate Yasha and Molly’s apartment well, now. Yasha waves to him from the couch as he enters, her feet propped up on the table in the middle of the room, Beau leaning lazily up against her. They’re watching something or other on Yasha’s tablet. It sounds like a meme compilation, but Caleb isn’t going to question, no way, no fucking how.  
He shuffles past, pauses only to bend over the back of the sofa, so close to Beau’s ear and yet _she_ can barely hear him.   
_“Kiss the girl_.”   
She grumbles and swats at him, but he’s too quick, twists nimbly out of range, chuckling all the while.

  
Caleb comes into Molly’s room quietly enough that he doesn’t notice, and Caleb gets to stop at the door, close it behind him silently and _listen_.   
Molly is sitting on his windowsill, legs slung over to the outside, he’s half-singing, half-humming along to some song that Caleb doesn’t know. In all fairness, though, Caleb hasn’t been up to date on music for over ten years.   
Was he ever up to date on music? Now, that’s a question.   
Molly’s tail waves languidly across the floor, his eyes too drawn to the colours of the sunset over the city skyline to notice the dark shape shuffling his way into the room, even with the soft crinkling of the carrier bag.   
He comes up behind Molly, now that he’s closer, he can hear the words and _oh_ . He _does_ recognise the song, albeit only vaguely, and the vocals aren’t the original.   
  
“ _Hmmm-hm-hmmmm_.” Molly hums along to the beat, Caleb spots a cup of tea, the same raspberry scent is strong now he’s close. “ _Hm-hmmm- can’t help… falling in love with… hmm.”  
_   
He drifts in and out of the words, and Caleb is loathe to distract him, but he feels _bad_ just watching. Listening. It feels weird.   
He’s close enough now, he thinks,   
“Mollymauk.” His voice is soft, but Molly jolts anyway, and Caleb jumps in and wraps an arm around Molly’s waist just before he can shock himself straight out of the window.   
Molly is stiff in his grasp, and as Caleb pulls them both back and they collapse to the floor, he feels the tiefling slacken. Like string without tension, it’s like he _melts_ in Caleb’s grip. Gloops all over him.   
“I’m sorry.” Caleb huffs, his breath comes heavy though he’s done little strenuous exercise. Molly isn’t exactly _heavy_. He’s actually pretty light, and very warm, and very still under Caleb’s arm. He can feel Molly breathing, but nothing else.   
Caleb lifts his arm and pushes Molly until he slips off, and Caleb can sit up next to him.   
“Mollymauk? Are you okay?”   
“I saw my life flash before my eyes.” Molly murmurs, staring through the ceiling.   
“How was it?” Caleb smiles.   
“Fucking _awesome_.”   
  
Eodwulf is a distant memory. Caleb offers his hand to Mollymauk and pulls him up off of the floor, they both move to the window and lean out a little, staring down the four storeys that Molly came close to falling. On the sidewalk below, they can see the broken ceramic splash smash of Molly’s cup.   
“I liked that cup.” Molly says sadly. Caleb chuckles.   
“I will buy you a new one.”   
He bumps his shoulder to Molly’s and turns, moves to sit at the end of Molly’s bed instead, reaches into the bag and withdraws the cans.   
“Fjord mentioned something about, about a lake trip?” Caleb looks up from the cans to Molly. He’s turned, now, leaning back on the windowsill to watch Caleb, he’s haloed by the orange light. The amber on his horn glimmers brighter than ever.   
“I was going to take you out to the lake.” He says lightly, pushes off to stride over. The way he walks is mesmerising, he sways left and right with each step, and his long hair follows the same pattern a second behind the rest of his body. He comes and flops onto the bed beside Caleb, stretches out and hums thanks when Caleb hands him a can.   
“That seems bold.” Caleb teases, when Molly doesn’t add anything else. He snorts.   
“Nott, too, of course. And Beau. And Jester. Fjord was going to bring Yasha and Cali along in his car.”   
“You are talking in past tense, has this been cancelled?”   
“Well,” Molly props himself up at just the angle to crack the can open and swig, “Usually at the lake, we go swimming. I don’t want to put you though the pain, and…” He gestures at Caleb’s arms, and Caleb turns quiet, swigs his can grimly.   
  
Molly sits up properly, and shuffles closer.   
“The shirt really does suit you.” He props his chin on Caleb’s shoulder. The weight is comforting. The weight is grounding.   
They sit like that for a few minutes. In silence, warm silence, the pink-orange light of the sunset streaking through Molly’s room, the music still humming away in the background, through tracks unfamiliar to Caleb.   
  
There’s a pause between each song change, where Molly tenses, like he’s waiting for one particular song. He shifts off of Caleb’s shoulder eventually, so that he can drink instead.   
  
The silence is warm. But Caleb has things to say.   
  
“I did not know that you could sing.”   
Molly’s chuckle is low, _embarrassed_ , and that’s not something that Caleb thought Molly would ever be.   
“It’s a hobby. Don’t mention it to anyone else.”   
“I like your voice.” Caleb says, quiet, so quiet that he might not have said it at all. And he keeps his eyes on his drink, so he misses the way Molly’s eyes widen, slightly, in surprise.   
The track from Molly’s phone pauses and changes.   
  
The timing is perfect, Molly thinks, evening his breathing for the control. When he looks out of the window, he can see one of the moons over the horizon, a pretty crescent, and smiles a little that the timing is no coincidence.   
  
He sings for Caleb. Keeps his eyes on his hands, he patters the familiar rhythm with the pads of his fingers against his can, so that he doesn’t have to look at him.   
Caleb is so caught up in Molly’s voice that he comes dangerously close to missing the words he’s singing.   
  
“ _Only one thing, really matters._ ”   
  
Molly’s eyes flicker, just briefly, from his can to Caleb. And then back.  
  
“ _We’re still here. We’re still here_ .”   
  
Caleb chuckles, a little, rests a hand on Molly’s arm.   
  
“Considering,” he says, softly, “That you and I have both saved one another from probable death today, that song is… very fitting.”   
Molly shifts so that he can set a hand over Caleb’s, keeps his eyes low, still.   
“I was thinking more of the past. But if that makes you happy, then you choose that.”   
Caleb frowns. Of course. Molly suffers nightmares, too, there must have been… something.   
“Didn’t mean to upset you, darl- Caleb.”   
Caleb’s frown smooths.   
“You can say it.” He tells Molly, tightens his fingers on his arm, briefly, “I trust that you mean it.”

 

Once the cans are finished and tossed into Molly’s waste paper basket for sorting in the morning, they move onto cookies. And Molly produces a bottle of gin, it glimmers pink in the pale moonlight, and Molly hands it over before shifting to turn on his lamp and light the room. Caleb studies it.  
“Berries.” Molly gestures at the bottle, “It’s sweet. You can drink it straight from the bottle, I don’t mind. _Unless_ ,” Shock, Caleb’s eyes dart up to meet Molly’s, “You have something I can catch. Then I’ll get glasses.”   
“I don’t believe that  I have anything you can _catch_.” Caleb muses, and Molly shrugs.   
“Good enough for me.” He takes the bottle and opens it for the first swig, hands it back to Caleb so that he can do the same.   
Molly is right about the sweetness, the fruity tang of berries hits Caleb’s tongue hard and then lights up pink fire down his throat, as any good spirit should.   
Caleb hands the bottle back.   
“I should- before we get too drunk-”   
He scrabbles in the carrier bag for his phone, and Molly raises his eyebrows,   
“Jester gave you one of hers?”   
“I- _ja,_ she is, so kind. I do not think I can articulate or repay her the affection I feel.”   
Molly gives a strange laugh. Strangled.   
“Do you want my number?”   
Oh. Oh, of course, Molly has a number. Of course.   
“Yes, I- Please. Yes. And Fjord’s, too, if you have it. And Yasha.”   
“I can do all of that.” Molly leans over and snatches his phone with the tips of his fingers, spins it into the right place. The music cuts off whilst it’s in his hand, and the room becomes eerily quiet, only Molly’s breath, Caleb’s breath, and the sound of the city at night outside.   
Caleb shoots Nott a text whilst he waits.   
  
**TO: Nott** ****  
Not sure if I will be home. May stay with Mollymauk. Don’t worry.  
  
**FROM: Nott**   
Txt me when u wake up. + leave frumpkin.

  
Caleb chuckles a little,   
  
**TO: Nott** ****  
He should be in my room.  
  
**FROM: Nott** **  
** <3

 

“Can I have your phone a second?” Molly holds his hand out, and Caleb closes the messaging app before he hands it over. Molly references back and forth, typing with both hands at once, and Caleb watches in awe.  
Molly hands his phone back. Three new contacts have been added, now.

  
  
**Seaman** **(Fjord)** **  
****  
****The Muscle (Yasha)**

**Beauty, Grace (Molly)**

****  
****  
Caleb quirks a smile at them, especially Molly’s, and raises his eyebrows with his gaze, back to Molly’s eyes.  
“I see that you are humble.”   
Molly swigs from the gin bottle, holds it out to Caleb.   
“Shut up and drink.”   
Caleb gives a snort of laughter, takes it and swigs anyway,   
“As you wish, Beauregard.”   
“I resent that.” Molly points at him, “I am in no way a disaster lesbian.”   
“Oh?” Caleb leans closer, takes another long gulp before he hands the bottle back. His mind is already beginning to fog pleasantly. “What are you, then?”   
Molly’s eyes glitter mischievously in the lamplight.   
He chugs. Keeps his eyes on Caleb, deliberately, drains half of what’s left in the bottle without batting an eyelid and takes glimmering pride in the way Caleb’s jaw slackens.   
He drops the bottle from his lips with a heavy exhale, a harder inhale, hands it over to Caleb and leans in. Close.   
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”   
Caleb shoves his shoulder and rolls his eyes, tips the bottle back to his own lips. Swigs. Swallows.   
“It is none of my business. I don’t have much of a care.” He says, loosely between gulps of gin, and misses the flinch of hurt from Molly. He’s too busy pouring the gin down his throat and forgetting the rest of the world.   
  
And then switches, one hand on the bottle, without looking, he reaches out and clasps Molly’s fingers.   
  
Forgetting the rest of the world, minus Molly.   
  
The bottle is empty. Caleb sets it down beside the bed.   
“Can I stay the night?” Caleb shocks himself with the way his words slur. He’s drunker than he thought he was, each movement takes a second, his vision lags behind. Molly looks around his room,   
“I don’t have, a second bed, I’m-”   
“I don’t mind.” Caleb interrupts. Squeezes. It occurs to him that Molly might, though, “But if you- if you don’t want to, if you’re uncomfortable-”   
“Caleb, darling, no- it’s… very much the opposite.”   
Caleb frowns as the wheels in his head begin to turn and alarms go off in Molly’s.   
“Sleeping with others!” The desperation makes it a touch louder than it needs to be, “It helps me-” the volume regulates, “-to sleep. Without nightmares.”   
“I brought, um. Backup. For that.” Caleb, swaying, lets go of Molly to lean over the side of the bed and pull from his bag, the Cloak of Dreamless Sleep. Molly’s eyes are wide when Caleb turns back.   
“Uh. Yeah. That’ll- That works.” Molly can’t find any more arguments. Molly can’t find any heart to argue. What’s the use in pretending that he doesn’t want this? What could go wrong?   
  
He lists those out when that thought pops up.   
  
He could get clingy. Molly knows that he’s a clingy sleeper, and although he doesn’t exactly have a reference point, he’s _pretty sure_ that the way Caleb makes his heart ache will just make that worse.   
But Caleb _knows_ that Molly is touchy. He’s been very physical tonight, himself, though that could just be the alcohol. But Molly is drunk, too.   
“I get cuddly when I sleep.” Molly’s mouth warns before his slow, drunk brain can catch up. Caleb shrugs.   
“I’m drunk.”   
That’s not a good answer, Molly thinks, but it’s getting harder to battle off his nightmares lately and even sleeping with Fjord, or Beau, or Yasha, it couldn’t help. It made it better, but the Cloak will be infallible.   
“We’ve done a lot to get you to be _this_ comfortable, Caleb.” Molly’s voice is quiet, dejected, “I don’t want regret to make things worse.”   
Caleb frowns. Because he can’t promise that he won’t wake up in panic.   
“I like it when you touch me.” He says, instead, still frowning, eyes down. If Molly could blush through the alcohol haze, he’s sure he would. “It’s… nice. And helps me.”   
He’s overwhelmed by the scent of lavender as Molly shuffles in and winds his arms around Caleb’s shoulders, tucks his head against his neck and sits, half in Caleb’s lap, straining with the tension to stop him from collapsing there. There’s a _lot_ of hair, wild curls of it, usually Caleb would think of smothering clouds. Now, though, drunk and a little bit sad and needy, it seems like a perfect place to bury his face.   
  
He’s right. It feels nice.   
  
It feels nice, too, to draw his arms up and lock his hands together at the middle of Molly’s back, feeling the ridges of his spine push into the soft heel of Caleb’s left hand.   
“This is fine.” Caleb mumbles into Molly’s hair, “This is good.”   
Molly drags them both sideways, twisting and shuffling until they can lie down properly. Molly keeps one arm under Caleb, uses the other to tug the quilt loose and pull it over them, drags the Cloak up too. Between them, they get it spread across the bed, across them, and sigh as they lie down.   
  
The midnight noise of the city is faint through the open window, but the breeze is not.   
“Do you want me to close it?” Molly asks, when Caleb flinches at the third horn honk in five minutes. Caleb groans.   
“ _Ja_ . Please.”   
He groans again when Molly pulls away from him and slips out of bed, hears him padding around the room in silence, hears the window pull closed and click locked. Footsteps, bed creaking, and then Molly is back.   
“You know,” Molly observes absently, he tucks himself loosely back around Caleb, “Jester could heal your scratches without even knowing. Just tell her you pulled your shoulder.”   
“I would- I would feel bad to deceive her.”   
“Then don’t tell her anything exact.” Caleb feels Molly shrug against his arms, “Just say you hurt, and she’ll heal you up. She’s got nothing better to do with her spell slots anyway, the only thing she casts outside of the Academy is Sending.”   
Caleb hums.   
“I’ll consider it.” He tells Molly, “Goodnight, Mollymauk.”   
Molly tilts his head and kisses the inside of Caleb’s forearm, tucked against the crook of Molly’s neck.   
“Night, Caleb.”

 

When they wake in the morning, it’s with killer headaches. Caleb comes to before Molly, the first thought in his mind is _pain_ , the second is that someone warm is pressed all down his back, there’s a knee partially jammed between his thighs, and an arm wound around his waist. Not thrown. _Wound._ Holding very carefully and deliberately, and that isn’t something that he could attribute to Eodwulf.   
Eodwulf never cuddled Caleb. When he woke up, Eodwulf was always _gone_ , and before they slept, it was always like it was coincidental, splayed over Caleb like he’d fallen there and just not moved.   
  
But Molly- and he knows it’s Molly just by the scent of lavender, by the warmth- he’s wrapped around Caleb so _deliberately_ , intentionally, he can feel the tiefling’s breath, slow and warm against the back of his head. Roughly, Caleb thinks, around the patch that Caleb had scratched to bleeding. It can’t be on purpose, Molly is still asleep, but it still makes Caleb ache all over. To the point, actually, that he starts to sob. Silently, Molly is still asleep, but he sobs, because this is _alien_.  
  
The arm around his waist tightens, Molly’s breathing quickens, he’s awake and Caleb tries very hard not to shake.   
  
  
“What’s wrong, Caleb?” Whoops. Too late. He’s noticed. “Do you want me to let go?”   
Caleb shakes his head as vehemently as he can against the pillows, and Molly sighs gently, pulls Caleb back until they’re fit together like puzzle pieces. And he hums, softly, the song from the night before, the one he’d sung for Caleb, until Caleb is leaning back into him rather than curling up, and he’s humming, too. Just in pieces, the bits he remembers, mostly the chorus but that’s fine.   
Caleb struggles a little, until he can turn and face Molly.   
“How- did you sleep well?”   
Molly smiles, thumbs away the last of the tears from Caleb’s cheeks.   
“No nightmares. Cloak did its job.”   
Caleb lets out a shaking breath, one he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and Molly’s brow creases a little.   
“You were crying, when I woke up. Why?”   
Caleb presses his cheek into Molly’s hand, turns like he’s trying to bury himself, too.   
“I have, lately, been unable to- to shake, the memories, of somebody I used to know.” He says, it’s muffled by Molly’s wrist.   
“Oh.” Molly says, softly, “Am I- the touching, am I too similar to an old friend?”   
“ _Boyfriend_ .” Caleb corrects, choked and hoarse, as though the word burns. Molly’s eyes widen.   
“Oh.” His voice is still small, “You- men.”   
Caleb’s laugh is broken as he realises Molly didn’t know, and shuffles away, out of Molly’s grip. He spares only a glance for the beautiful tiefling as he turns away, pulls the cloak along with him and begins to fold it.   
Molly was looking for a friend. Caleb is sure. And instead he found Caleb, who- and wait, wasn’t _Caleb_ looking for a friend?   
  
When did that change?   
  
It hasn’t. Caleb is sure it hasn’t.   
  
He still doesn’t turn back.   
  
“ _Ja_.” He says, finally, without moving his eyes from the little runes, “I am sorry, I didn’t think to tell you, I forget it may not be obvious.”   
“‘S also none of my business, to be fair, Cay.”   
Caleb looks over his shoulder at the nickname. Molly has spread out on his back, stares at the ceiling, “Are you coming back, by the way? It’s cold without you.”   
Caleb snorts, and all of his anxiety dissipates.   
Of course Molly doesn’t care.   
He packs the cloak into the bag, and turns back to roll into Molly. He settles his head against Molly’s chest, so that he can hear his heartbeat, and Molly threads his fingers through his hair.   
“Will you tell me more?” Molly asks, “Would you be comfortable to?”   
Caleb listens to Molly’s heart beat. Counts thirteen before he answers,   
“His name was Eodwulf.” He says, slow and measured, “And the reason it upset me so was that you are so very different to him. It isn’t something that I am used to, and it’s…”   
Molly hums, one of his rings has caught in Caleb’s hair and he untangles it carefully.   
“Realising that someone cares about you after a long time of having nothing…” Caleb tries, and Molly nods.   
“It’s jarring. I understand.”   
“He is a reminder of the times in my life that I made the biggest mistakes. The worst decisions. The unforgivable choices. And sometimes, I can still- I can still feel his touch on my skin. I have to scrub it away.”   
“The scratches.” Molly says, the tone of someone seeing the light of dawn, and Caleb nods against his chest. Molly’s exposed skin sticks to his cheek where he lays, the deep v-neck from the day before.   
  
“I would still like to go to the lake.” Caleb is tensed, like he expects rejection, “If the offer is still open.”   
Molly yawns widely, shifts a hand under his pillow and pulls out his phone.   
“Sure. I’ll text-”   
  
There’s a bang from outside, like Molly’s apartment door being slammed open, and he frowns. Pats Caleb to sit, and does the same,   
“Yasha doesn’t do that. Not unless she’s worried, or angry. We should go and check.”   
They both stand and stretch, slip out of Molly’s room, and stop stock still outside of the door.   
Jester is the one to have slammed the door open, they can see her bawling in Yasha’s embrace, and there’s a dark flickering to the aasimar’s eyes and hair that shocks Caleb and worries Molly.   
Whatever has happened, it must be terrible.   
He drags Caleb by the wrist over to the girls, slips Jester out of Yasha’s grip and cuddles her, she drags her nails down his back and where she furrows, he bleeds, but he doesn’t even flinch.   
“Yasha?” He asks, eyes on her, “What’s happened?”   
“It’s Beau!” Jester wails, “She’s- She’s-”   
Yasha dangles a little square of paper with a symbol that turns Molly’s blood to ice in his veins.   
A cursive capital ‘G’ that’s twisted, almost unrecognisable as a letter, but immediately recognisable as a gang symbol.   
“ _She’s been taken!_ ” Jester howls, “She’s _gone_!”


	10. All For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for magic, time for a _wizard_

The rush around Caleb is overwhelming, his head is _spinning_ there must be something that he can do.

Molly is in _Caleb’s room_ , the bustle from outside is loud. Jester, Yasha, Nott, and Fjord, and a handful of others that Caleb doesn’t recognise, with Cali on her way.   
Caleb finds himself longing for that. He likes Cali an unreasonable amount for the one day of work they’ve done together.   
Molly sits on Caleb’s bed, an arm around his shoulders, muttering low and quick.  
  
“The symbol comes from the Gentleman. Kind of the mob boss of this city. You don’t fuck with the Gentleman, he has _people_ and he _will_ find you. If they’ve taken Beau, that means she owes them something, or she’s pissed someone off enough to have them pay the Gentleman to take her. He’s ruthless, he _will_ kill.”  
  
Caleb huddles closer to him.  
  
It sounds like Ikathon, all over again.  
  
Molly kisses his forehead.  
  
_Something occurs to Caleb_ , he stands quickly, his fingers drag up to Molly’s shoulder.   
“The Gentleman.” He says, firm and determined and it _scares_ Molly, “Will he be warded?”   
“N- I don’t know. Nobody knows. He has _fighters_ , and that’s if-”   
“I have an idea.”   
He strides out of the room with a manic sort of purpose that sets off all kind of alarm bells in Molly’s head. So Molly follows in a rush, Caleb brushes past Cali as he leaves and Molly mumbles a greeting and farewell in the same single word, following Caleb as he moves down the stairs.

  
  
**FROM: JeSTAR** ****  
where is he going??? molly???  
  
**FROM: JeSTAR** **  
** i cant lose anyone else today molly come back brink gim bac k

 

Molly flicks the texts up on his phone as he trots behind Caleb. He’s turned out onto the street now, his coat billows around him in the wind. It’s filthy. Caleb is too focused to care.  
  
**TO: JeSTAR**   
I have NO fucking idea. I’ll keep him safe.   
  
**TO: JeSTAR** ****  
Promise. Love you.  
  
**FROM: JeSTAR** ****  
if you dont i will cut your dick right off of your body  
  
**FROM: JeSTAR** **  
** love you too.

 

“Caleb, let me catch up.” he calls, and he doesn’t expect Caleb to pause but he does. He stops, turns over his shoulder and holds a hand out to Molly. Molly jogs to catch up and take Caleb’s hand- the second Caleb feels his fingers grip, he’s off again, pulling Molly along behind him.

Caleb takes them to the Invulnerable Vagrant, and as they enter into the lobby, Molly stares at him with wide eyes.  
  
“You remembered how to get here?”  
  
“My memory is infallible.” Caleb says, so cold and absent that Molly finds himself, again, swamped with fear. This is not _his_ Caleb. This Caleb is mechanical.  
  
The Caleb he doesn’t recognise still has hold of his hand, though, and that is _very_ much _his_ Caleb. He’s warm, soft, and trembling in Molly’s grip, but it’s _his_ Caleb.  
  
“Which one will sell spell scrolls?” Caleb asks, and Molly points at the door second from the left, silently.  
  
Caleb drags him in.  
  
  
It’s like he relaxes for a split second, and Molly should have known that Caleb would like this part of the shop. It resembles a bookstore, warm, earthy tones, many little trinkets and cases and potions, and the Pumat Sol that works here beams at them across a desk.  
  
“I’ll be with you in _just_ a second.”  
  
He tips, carefully, a small amount of bright red powder into a little glass vial and leans back at the plume of bright pink smoke that comes out and fills the room. When it clears, he’s stoppered the vial and set it to the side. It has changed from bright blue to vivid magenta.  
  
“Molly, good t’ see you.” Pumat greets pleasantly. Caleb pulls him forward. “And I don’t believe we’ve met! Hello, I am Pumat Sol, owner of The Invulnerable Vagrant.”  
He holds a giant hand out to Caleb, who shakes despite his urgency.  
  
“I- I need, a spell scroll for…” He pauses to consider, “I need to find something. Can you help me?”  
  
“Depends what kind of _something_ you’re looking for.”  
  
“Beau.” Molly answers as it hits him what Caleb is doing, “We need to find Beau.”  
  
Pumat’s face changes a little, perhaps shock,  
  
“Are you sure she wants to be found? The last time you did something she didn’t like-”  
  
“I am still _very_ sorry for that.” Molly’s mind helpfully provides him the image of all the shattered potion vials from the time he’d insulted Beau in the wrong way, and she had tackled him to the floor. Caleb gives him a curious look, and Molly shakes his head, “No. This time, we _need_ to find her. She was taken.” Molly steps in, closer, so he can speak low, “By the Gentleman.”  
  
If Pumat’s skin had been visible under the fur of his face, Caleb thinks he would have blanched. This is _so much worse_ than he had originally thought.  
  
“Of course, I can help.” He hums as he thinks, “I have _Locate Object_ , _Locate Person_ , and _Scrying_ , that might help. The last two are, forgive me, a little out of your price range.”  
  
“Can’t you cut down the price for us? Just a _bit_ , Pumat, please.”  
  
“Molly, I’m trying my best.” Pumat levels as he turns, flicks across rows of scroll cases and picks three out, “I can cut the price down by some, but I still don’t think you’ll be able to afford it. Even _Locate Object_ is a hundred and fifty gold, and that’s second level. _Locate Person_ is fourth, _Scrying_ is fifth. That’s seven hundred, or one-thousand one-hundred, respectively.”  
  
“What about trade?” Caleb leans over the desk, and Pumat looks him up and down.  
  
“I mean no offence, but I don’t think you have much to offer me.”  
  
“I do.” Molly steps in beside Caleb, fiddling at the back of his neck until one of his necklaces comes loose. The gold one, with the little ruby heart in the intricate wound metal cage. Pumat smiles.  
  
“You’ve taken care of it, I see.”  
  
“Mollymauk, that- you can’t-”  
  
Caleb has slept with the necklace pressed to his back. He knows what it is.  
  
“What if you get hurt?”  
  
“I’ll have Jester. Or Fjord.” Molly smiles, leans over, kisses Caleb’s forehead, “Or you.”  
  
He hands Pumat the Periapt of Wound Closure.  
Pumat slides over the Scrying and Locate Person cases, tucks Locate Object away.  
  
“Careful with those. If you’re not focusing hard enough, it’ll fail and crumble.”  
  
Caleb nods, knowingly,  
  
“Thank you.”

 

They move out again, heading back to the apartment so that he can cast, and three streets from the apartment, Caleb grabs Molly’s wrist.  
  
“Darling?” Molly says, concerned.   
  
“Dairon.” Caleb’s eyes are wide, “Beau’s tutor. Dairon.”   
  
Molly’s eyes widen too.   
He has met Dairon only briefly, but she was _terrifying_. He has no doubt that she would be more than useful, and he knows that Beau is something like her star student. He texts Yasha.   
  
**  
TO: The Oncoming Storm** **  
** DAIRON.

 

 **FROM: The Oncoming Storm** **  
** Got It.

 

They tear up the steps and into Jester’s apartment, only Fjord sees them as he rushes to his own and he asks no questions and says nothing, just waves.  
  
“Something that Beauregard owns.” Caleb instructs Molly, shoving the table out from the centre of the main room and clearing himself a space on the floor. Molly nods, heads quickly to her room, and comes back trembling. His hands clenched around a staff, a blue ribbon tied at one end.   
  
“Her- she- anywhere dangerous, she takes _this_ , Caleb, where is she?”   
  
Caleb can’t afford to focus on anything other than Beau right now, he holds a hand out for the staff silently, reading over the glyphs on the page.   
Molly comes and drops it into his hand. Caleb settles it on his lap and breathes, Molly watches as his eyes grow brighter, glowing, crackling with the arcane. Little bolts zip out across his body, and he tilts his head up to Molly.   
  
“You will want to stand back.”   
  
Molly does.   
  
Caleb settles his hands on the staff, takes one, deep breath, and begins to read.   
  
Every word, the magic courses through him. It’s too strong, it hurts his hangover head but he keeps going, keeps going. He can see only blue, the scroll, and Beau’s staff and he keeps reading. Even when the arcane words begin to burn his tongue, searing glyphs into the back of his throat, he _keeps going_. Beauregard fills his mind, he pushes out everything except her, _everything_. Molly disappears. The world disappears. There is only power, Caleb, and the staff.   
  
And then he blinks and he sees her.   
  
From above and in front, he sees her, shackled to a wall and bloodied, but still breathing, still conscious. Someone stalks around her. Someone he doesn’t recognise.   
  
_“You thought that you could escape your repayment? Beauregard, Beauregard, Beauregard.”_   
  
The voice of the shadowed person is smooth, terrifying, Caleb sees them spinning a baseball bat around their fingers. They have blond hair, tied back in a ponytail, and seem to be elven.   
Beau spits at them, mostly blood.   
  
_“I didn’t think_ anythin’ _, I didn’t know what the call would be.”_   
  
The bat comes lightly up, pushes Beau’s chin up so that Caleb gets a full view of her newly blackened eye.   
  
_“This isn’t your first time at the rodeo, no? We called for you, and you weren’t polite enough to answer. Well, then, if you won’t be polite…”_   
  
The bat drops.   
  
_“Why should we be?”_  
  
There’s a flash and a thud as the bat is swung, a crackling noise, and Beau yelps in restrained agony.   
  
“Come on, come on, come on.” Caleb mutters, shifting the sensor for better angles, anything. There’s a barred window. Caleb shifts the sensor as close as he can and stares out.   
  
Behind him, he can still hear Beau and her tormentor.   
  
_“I’ll do what you want!”_ Beau yelps, _“It was a mistake, okay? I’ll do what you want.”_   
  
_“Oh, Beauregard.”_ the voice is saccharine sweet.   
  
There’s a sign. A street sign. Caleb strains to make it out.   
  
_“Why would we ever trust you again?”_   
  
Caleb blinks out of it and scrambles to his feet,   
  
“I know where she is.”   
  
He leaves sparks of blue behind with the ashes of the scroll as it crumbles, and Molly follows him as he rushes out of Jester’s apartment and over to his own. 

He slams the door open. Half of the crowd here has gone, but Yasha, Fjord, and Cali still remain, along with a dark-skinned elf, bald, with a heavy cloak.  
Molly peers over Caleb’s shoulder.  
  
“Dairon.” Caleb hears him breath against the back of his neck, and shudders as he comes in.  
  
“I know where Beauregard is.” Caleb says, his voice loud and cutting and they all turn to look at him. He doesn’t have _time_ to be scared.  
  
“Labenda North Street.” He tells them, doesn’t let himself feel the threatening uncertainty. Fjord and Dairon share a look.  
  
“How do you know this?” Dairon speaks, her voice is the dangerous kind of soft that Caleb thinks he should have expected, she takes half a step toward him.  
  
“I- Molly, he bought, a Scrying scroll. I _saw_.”  
  
That’s enough for Dairon, she gestures to the others and moves toward him, past him, and they all spill out of the apartment with a resounding clatter as the door closes behind them.

 

Dairon leads the way, she moves swiftly and they almost have to jog to keep up with her brisk pace. Caleb, now exhausted, sags against Molly as they walk, he winds an arm around Caleb’s waist and takes part of his weight.  
  
“I scared you.” Caleb murmurs, rubbing his head to Molly’s shoulder apologetically, “I’m so sorry.”   
  
Molly turns his head and kisses Caleb’s hair.   
  
“I’m just glad to have you back.” 

“I didn’t go anywhere.” Caleb sounds amused, they round a corner, Molly’s arm around him tightens marginally.  
  
“You were glowing and sparking like a plasma ball.” Molly chips back, and Caleb chuckles.  
  
“Here.” Dairon points at a street sign. Caleb recognises it, stands up straight, and is already moving to search the area when Dairon adds, “Where now, Caleb?”  
  
The bars catch his eye.  
  
“There.” He points at the building, at the grate, and Dairon holds a hand up for silence as she stalks around.  
  
“Call Jester.” She instructs nobody in particular, “Go around the corner and call.”  
  
Fjord disappears.  
It takes less than five minutes for the car to come twisting around the corner. Caleb has never seen Jester’s car, and yet somehow, he just _knows_ , doesn’t need to look at the driver’s seat. It turns into an alley a little further up the street, and a few moments later, Jester’s party spills onto the pavement, Nott, Jester, and three others that Caleb doesn’t recognise. An older, wizened man with a sunburst of white hair, decorated with beads. A tiny bird-person that Caleb recognises as a Kenku. And a character with bright, fire-red skin and burning hair.  
They pound up the street toward them and stop only at Dairon’s flat, raised hand.   
  
“This one.” She says, quiet but firm, points at the building. Jester comes to the front of the party, points at each of them in turn.  
  
“This is Ornna. Shakäste. Kiri.”  
  
“ _Fucking corners!_ ” Kiri chirps helpfully, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Nott’s. Jester flushes.  
  
“Alright. I want you to do _exactly as I say_.” Dairon’s low voice is drowned out by a screech.  
  
Beau’s screech.  
  
Of pain.  
  
“Fuck plans.” Molly snarls, breaking from Caleb, coming forward, “Fuck care. Fuck all of that. Caleb, use Frumpkin to make a distraction. We’re getting her out _now_.”  
  
“You need to use _care_ , Mollymauk, there are points to press-” Dairon tries to protest. Molly shakes his head, whips it back and forth. He pulls from his belt a scimitar, gold, with a jewel-encrusted hilt, Caleb has never seen it before, never noticed the sheath, he wonders when Molly had time to pick it up.  
  
(The answer is whilst Caleb was scrying. It scared the shit out of him, he had to leave.)  
  
He watches Molly draw it across his forearm, and before he can give a shout of concern, the blade lights up like a beacon and Molly blinks out of sight a second later.  
  
“Molly?” Caleb gasps, lurching forward, and louder, “ _Mollymauk_?”   
  
There’s scraping from inside, bolts being pulled back, and Caleb sees the party around him draw themselves into combat positions. Fjord swipes a hand through the air, a dripping falchion forms in his hand. Jester’s hands come to the necklace she wears, the pendant with the symbol of a door. Nott, without her weapons, crowds into Kiri, who hands her a dagger.  
A _dagger_? The Kenku can’t be older than Nott is.  
The door opens to Molly’s face, scimitar still shining in his hand, and Caleb is the first in, tackling Molly to the wall with a combination of shock and relief.  
Dairon rushes past him. Then Fjord. Then Jester.  
  
“Now might be a good time for Frumpkin, darling.” Molly kisses Caleb’s cheek and pushes him off, charges down the hall after his friends and Caleb comes around to the bars.  
He snaps his fingers. In his apartment, Frumpkin poofs to the Feywild.  
  
“I am sorry, Frumpkin.” Caleb mutters to himself, kneels by the grate, snaps again.  
  
Frumpkin raises hell, Caleb can hear screeching and hissing as he runs around and down the dark hall, stairs, after the others and they burst into the wide chamber and Beau is so much worse than Caleb remembers. She’s not conscious any more, her face is bloodied beyond recognition, at least one leg is broken by the angle of it and Molly is busy decapitating the blond elf with the baseball bat.  
There’s a look of animalistic rage on his face that Caleb has never seen, he has their back to his chest, both hands on his scimitar despite the obvious pain, pulling it _slowly_ through their flesh.  
  
Shakäste and Jester flood quickly to Beau’s side, all of the other agents in the room come surging in as they move. There’s six or seven of them, easily, and one brings a rapier toward Shakäste’s throat as he slips past, and then they don’t, because Dairon has materialised and pulled a knee into their ribs, a fist into their face, and there’s a snap as bones break and they collapse to the floor, dead.  
  
She spits on their corpse.  
  
Shakäste reaches Beau first, one hand works on the manacles binding her to the wall and the other tilts her chin up with a radiant glow that has Caleb shielding his eyes.  
  
He sees, the far side of the room, someone draw up a hand crossbow and aim for the back of Molly’s head and he _panics_ , spits an arcane word and throws his hands out.  
  
Three beams of condensed sunlight flash through the air, Caleb sees them hit and burn and memories flash through him.   
  
If he hadn’t looked through the window, if he hadn’t seen his mother- it wouldn’t have been so bad. It would have been bad, but he could have… distanced it. Separated it. Believed, maybe, that it wasn’t his parents that he killed, but strangers.  
He can’t shake the image of her flesh bubbling and melting, just the way he sees now. He can’t shake the image of her beautiful hair aflame. She had always been so pretty, so soft, so warm and loving and all she wanted was to support him and he’s a monster. He’s such a fucking monster and he collapses. He sees nothing of the now, only of the past, his mother at the window again and again and seeing him, pounding at the window with the flower vase but too slow, too slow and he sees his name on her lips. He sees the window blowing out as he comes toward it, he sees the sky, lit with ash and embers.  
  
He sees nothing.


	11. Instead Of Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb comes to a conclusion, and promptly runs from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNINGS**  
>  Caleb-typical background things, some of the same with Molly's too, mentions of child death and physical abuse/torture.

Caleb sees Mollymauk’s face, staring down at him in concern. There’s tear tracks on his cheeks.  
  
“Oh. Oh, you’re awake. He’s awake!”   
  
Caleb’s head rests on something soft and warm, Molly’s fingers card through his hair, and above Molly, Caleb sees the ceiling of his own apartment. There’s soft cheering from nearby, and Nott’s face swims into view beside Molly’s.   
  
“Are you okay, Caleb?” He feels her take his hand, “You were just. Stuck. And then you passed out.”   
  
“Beauregard.” Caleb croaks. “Where- is she okay?”   
  
“Yo.” Beau’s voice, Molly pulls Caleb up a little so that he can see her waving from his couch. And he smiles, weakly, but smiles. It occurs to him, briefly, that he’s laid out on Molly, tugged up from his thighs to lean against his chest and Molly’s hands haven’t stopped moving through his hair. He feels the tiefling press a kiss to the crown of his head and stay there, face buried in Caleb’s hair, breathing.   
  
“Molly.” Caleb has made a decision, “Can we go somewhere private?”   
  
Molly shifts and ducks his head under Caleb’s arm so that he can pull him up,   
  
“Of course. Your room or mine?”   
  
“Yours.” There’s no hint of question to Caleb’s voice, and Nott nods understandingly as they stand and shuffle out of the room, into Molly’s apartment. Caleb snaps with his free hand, wills Frumpkin back to join them.   
  
Nothing happens.   
  
Had he snapped him out before he fell unconscious? He doesn’t remember. Maybe he snapped him to the Feywild.   
He tries again. Wills for his cat.   
  
Nothing.   
  
“Mollymauk?” Caleb asks, as Molly edges them sideways through a thin gap. Molly hums. “Where did Frumpkin go?”   
  
Molly freezes.   
  
“Caleb, I- I’m sorry, that elf, she got to him just as I came in the room-”   
  
Caleb’s shoulders drop in shock. He should never have sent his cat into a _room_ with an _elf_ with a _bat_.   
  
“He just went _poof_ right as I got in.” Molly’s tone is all apology, “I’m so sorry, I should have-”   
  
“It’s fine, Mollymauk.” Caleb soothes, pressing his fingertips down against Molly’s upper arm, “I will summon him again when I can afford it.”

  
  
They sit side-by-side on Molly’s bed. Caleb shuffles for some distance, and watches the hurt in Molly’s eyes, shakes his head,   
  
“I enjoy- I like it, when you touch me.” Caleb confesses, “But I do not think that you will want to, when I tell you. And I don’t want to hurt myself more than it already will, by having you close at the time.”   
  
Molly watches Caleb’s bright blue eyes close, his face turn toward the bed.   
  
“Even though I deserve that hurt.”   
  
“Look at me.” Molly won’t touch him, not when Caleb has told him specifically not to, but his tone has the same effect. Caleb looks up, and Molly studies him. The lonely, broken wizard with eyes the colour of the sky. A smile that could light the world. A laugh that makes Molly’s heart swell.   
  
It’s not a crush any more, Molly realises dimly.   
And he’s damn fucking certain that there is _nothing_ on this plane or any other that could ever stop Molly from loving him.   
  
“Thank you.” Molly says softly, and the urge to kiss his forehead, to cup his cheek, to hug him, touch him, comfort him, it swells like a tidal wave in his heart and closes his throat.   
  
“I am going to tell you-” Caleb has to swallow as tears threaten, “- I am going to tell you the story of- of-”   
He chokes himself off again, and Molly cocks his head.   
  
“Darling, you don’t have to tell me anything that will upset you.”   
Caleb shakes his head,   
  
“I will. I will tell you this, you will ask me to leave, and I will go.” He swallows hard, “I want this to end now, before I become more attached.”   
  
Molly nods. He understands. And stills, and listens.   
Caleb takes a breath, and when he speaks again, it’s the detached, mechanical voice from before.   
  
“I am going to tell you the story of how I killed my parents.”

  
  
“When I was younger, much, much younger, my family was poor. They could afford little but second-hand books.” Caleb laughs, a little, a genuine noise that terrifies Molly, “I loved them. My parents put every coin they could into buying them for me. I read about the Feywild, and the Celestials, and magic, and I studied. I was gifted. A gifted child, they always told me, and I was- I was enrolled into the, the Soltryce Academy of Rexxentrum.”   
  
Molly vaguely remembers Fjord telling him in passing that Caleb had been to the main Academy.   
  
“Whilst there, I, and a handful of other pupils were personally assigned to a tutor. A powerful wizard named Trent Ikathon. He taught quickly, he taught us a lot, but he was not kind in his methods.”   
  
Caleb tucks a thumb into the waistband of his pants and eases one side down a few inches, so that Molly can see the mess of scarring at the top of his thigh.   
  
“He chose the areas least dangerous. The least visible. For the boys, they were never harmed above the belt, so that they could go shirtless without arousing suspicion. Ikathon demanded complete loyalty of us, punished us cruelly, praised us rarely. I was his- his _favourite_. He told me that I had so much potential. Threatened me with the asylum should I fail him. He pushed me hardest of all, but I became skilled. I became _perfect_. He told me- he lied to me that I was _perfect_.”   
  
Molly watches the first couple of tears spill from Caleb’s eyes and it takes everything within him not to kiss them away. 

“He tested our loyalty, again, and again. He made us torture one another. Made us pry into one another’s minds and report back to him our findings of our friends weaknesses. Our lovers’ weaknesses.”  
  
“Eodwulf.” Molly breathes. Caleb nods.   
  
“I fell in love with Eodwulf when I was sixteen. He was never cruel to me. It seemed, sometimes, that he loved me, too. He would hold my hand, stroke my skin, smooth salve into my wounds when I was harmed. He would sleep with me, and I would wake in the morning to find him gone, and then I would not see him for days. He refused, once, to torture me.”   
  
Caleb gulps, shakes his head.   
  
“Astrid was instructed to harm _him_ instead. His shoulder was dislocated for two days before I could find the right angle to pop it back in. He did not sleep with me after that. And we were the three that survived, many others died along the way, from one of our hands, from their own hands, and only once from Ikathon’s hand himself. He told them in their last seconds that to be killed by him was an honour. That they had been _smart_ and he valued that. And then he pulled the life right out of them.”   
“The final test of our loyalty came a week after the last of us- Astrid- turned eighteen. Ikathon sent us to visit each of our families in turn. We began with Eodwulf. His parents were charming, friendly, the greeted me like their own son. They were so happy to finally meet the man that had stolen their boy’s heart.”   
  
Caleb digs his nails into his wrist so hard he bleeds.   
  
“I helped Eodwulf to slit their throats as they slept that night, so that they might die together, the way that they had lived.”   
  
Molly takes in a sharp breath. Caleb nods.   
  
“Next was Astrid. She gave her parents a bottle of fine wine, the gift of a lifetime to them. She was so heartless. Eodwulf wept for his parents when they died. Astrid watched them choke on their own poisoned spit and didn’t bat an eyelid.”   
  
“And then it came to my house. Mollymauk, I grew up watching my parents love one another in ways I never thought I would truly comprehend. They understood one another so well that one could return from working when they sensed the other was sick. And they loved me. And they cared for me. They were so proud, and they only ever wanted me to be happy, to be the success I craved being. They hugged me when I entered, and they hugged Eodwulf and Astrid both, too. They pooled all of their savings from the last month into making a feast for us all, with a honey mead sweeter than I have ever tasted. There were fresh flowers on the windowsill, the room had been tidied, the old chair-blanket meticulously mended. And we ate, and we talked, and I did not feel a shred of doubt. I was so loyal to Ikathon, so sure that what I was doing was right, that when we slipped out that night and I set the house ablaze, I smiled. I was doing the right thing, I was doing what was asked of me. And then I saw my mother in the window.”   
  
The blood from Caleb’s wrist is dripping down onto his pants, now, mingling with his tears in the fabric. He’s careful to catch every drop that falls.   
  
“She was melting like winter snow. Her beautiful face was bubbling, her hair was aflame, and she saw me through the window. And I wasn’t smiling any more. I could see her shout for me. I saw my name on her lips as she tried to smash the window with the flower vase, but the smoke and the fire was consuming her and she collapsed. I ran for her. My loyalty snapped and I ran for the window as sirens began to wail, and Eodwulf and Astrid fled like scared rabbits. The window exploded outwards, I was knocked onto my back, and I saw the sky. The stars above my little town, marred by smoke and ash and embers. And I closed my eyes, and when I woke, I was in prison.”   
  
“Caleb.” Molly says softly, and Caleb shakes his head vehemently,   
  
“I am not finished, Molly.”   
  
Molly inclines his head. He can feel his own nails digging half-moons into his palms.   
  
“I spent… time. I lose track of how much. In that prison. They were not cruel in themselves, and it was a change for me to be there. They offered therapy. I did not take it. I think that it was around ten years of a life sentence that I was there before Ikathon sent a man for me.”   
“It was not Eodwulf, or Astrid, but another, a common guard that unlocked the door and slid in to incapacitate me, but I was, I am, always too tightly wound to be caught off-guard. And I killed him. And from him, I took this,” he lifts the necklace, a hexagonal prism of some deep black gem, a band of silver clasping it to the wax rope. It looks like the ones that Molly wears, but as he looks closer, he sees the little symbols dancing across the surface of the gem, the silver, the rope.   
  
“It prevents anyone- Ikathon- from using divination magic, as he so often threatened to do, the same as I did for Beauregard today. I cannot be found via magical means. And one day, Mollymauk, I swear to you, to the Gods, to anyone that will trust my word: one day, I will find the magic I need to repair the mistakes I have made, to bring my parents back, to destroy Trent Ikathon from the inside out. But I can never be forgiven. I _chose_ to do those things, Mollymauk. I _chose_ to kill my parents, to watch them burn alive.”   
  
He falls silent. Molly waits for a few seconds, to see if he will speak again.   
  
“And now you know what a monster I am.” Caleb sounds tired, dull, he stands from the bed, “I am sorry to have misled you. To make you think- to make you like me. To trust me. I am sorry.”   
  
He steps to move away, and Molly scrambles up after him. 

“Can I touch you now?”  
  
Caleb laughs, bitterly,   
  
“You will just rip it away.” He says, “But I know that I deserve it.”   
  
Molly takes his hand.   
  
“Caleb.” He says, softly, Caleb tugs gently on their join as he shifts toward the door.   
  
“Mollymauk,” Caleb says, voice thickened by tears but still dangerous, still hysterical, “I am a _disgusting person_! I killed the people that loved me! How can you be sure I won’t do the same to you?”   
  
“Because you aren’t who you were.” Molly moves to stand in front of him, keeps his grip on his hand tight, uses his free hand to cup Caleb’s cheek, “Whatever you were doesn’t matter to me. It matters to you, and that’s okay, I will never try to strip that from you. But when you’re like me, Caleb, the past doesn’t define you, or who you are, and others’ pasts don’t define them. It is _never_ too late for a new start. Every day, every hour, every minute, every decision is the start of a new life.”   
  
“I-”   
  
“That’s not how you feel.” Molly says, gently, “I know. I’m describing to you the way that _I_ feel.”   
  
Caleb shakes. Vibrates in place.   
  
“If you want to go, I won’t stop you. I don’t want you to go, but I won’t hold you somewhere you don’t want to be.” Molly tells him, squeezes his fingers, “But would you wait? Would you let me tell you _my_ history? Just so that we’re even?”   
  
Caleb can’t argue with that. He nods, shakily, and lets Molly lead him back to the bed by the hand.

 

Molly spins his history like yarn, like a fairytale turned grim. He describes to Caleb the exact weight and texture of the dirt that he clawed his way out of. Describes the dimensions of his own grave. How eerie the trees looked against the starlit sky, and how the moon guided him with Her light to a travelling carnival. He tells Caleb that he couldn’t talk.  
  
He tells Caleb he was empty.   
  
He describes the carnival in technicolour, each member, each event, tells him about Gustav and how friendly he’d been, tells him about the raids and attacks that had forced the carnival to disband.   
  
“Ornna, Mona, Yuli, Yasha, and Gustav. We were the ones that got out.” He turns his head aside, “Toya was only twelve. I watched her die.”   
Caleb’s breath catches.   
  
“Kylre tried to protect her, but they got him too. He was an odd thing, Kylre. Never liked the rest of us much, but Toya came around the same time I did, sold to the circus by her parents. It was better for all of them. Kylre liked her. Treated her like his own child.” he shakes his head, “We escaped with a car, the six of us, and nothing else. One of us had to sleep in the trunk every night.”   
  
He turns to look out of the window, gives an affectionate smile to the moon he sees there,   
  
“They never made me do it. We arrived here in Zadash… I’d say about a year ago. Gustav had friends here, got himself a job at the tattoo parlor, took over when the old owner went down sick. Hired me. Got Yasha and I this apartment, introduced us to Jester.”   
  
“Ornna? Mona? Yuli?” Caleb asks.   
  
“You met Ornna today.” Molly rubs his thumb over the back of Caleb’s hand absently, “She lives a little across town. Mona and Yuli had your apartment, but they’ve moved on to bigger and better things. I miss them terribly.”   
  
Molly sighs a little.   
  
“I won’t tell you that my history is as bad as yours. But sometimes, I have memories, before I woke up in that grave. The things that I did, Caleb…”   
  
“What do you remember?” Caleb asks without thinking, and Molly’s grip tightens on his hand.   
  
“I was- there was a group. Part of this, I heard from someone that knew me before I became _me_. But there was a group, I don’t remember the name, and they were obsessed with taking- taking power. From the Empire. For themselves. They took wealth and magic and knowledge, and anyone that stood in their way was dealt with. Threatening usually worked, but when it didn’t… they needed information. So they killed those they loved. There were children, Caleb. He killed children.”   
  
“He?” Caleb questions, and Molly swallows.   
  
“Me. The asshole that had this body before me. Not me. I’m not him. But this body did the things that he did, has the powers he used, keeps the muscle memory from his time and I _hate it_.”   
Caleb blinks at him. Molly’s face is contorted with the kind of hatred that Caleb knows well, the kind that burns and sears your throat and heart and eyes and lungs.   
  
“I’ve tried my damn level best to make this body mine. The tattoos. The piercings. The jewellery and the clothing and the decoration and the poise, but sometimes, just sometimes, it doesn’t feel like mine. And I hate it. I hate this body, I hate the man that came before me, I hate the way that everything has panned out, I hate _everything_!”   
  
Molly breathes heavily. Caleb swallows. And in the tiniest voice, he asks,   
  
“Me?”   
  
Molly looks up, startled. Meets Caleb’s eyes.   
  
“You?” He says, and the rage is gone, he is only softness, “Gods, no. No, darling, not you. I could never hate you.”   
  
Caleb cries, and Molly pulls him into him, they slot themselves together as though that was the way it was always meant to be, and they fall to the bed together.   
  
Molly reaches over Caleb, into the bag left abandoned that morning, and pulls out the Cloak of Dreamless sleep, smooths it over them. He lays back down, next to Caleb, curled to Caleb, brushes the tears from his face and kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, anywhere that he can reach, feather-light peppered kisses that become addictive and he can’t stop. And that’s how Caleb falls asleep, with Molly following him minutes later, lips still pressed to the wizard’s forehead in a sleepy goodnight kiss.

 

They wake up the next morning having barely moved at all. Caleb has managed to tuck himself under Molly’s chin, but they’re still curled around one another.  
It’s comforting for Caleb, that when he comes to, the first thing he smells is lavender. The first thing he sees is lavender. The first thing he feels is love.   
  
Oh.   
_  
Oh. _   
  
Everything makes sudden sense. The fogging and unfocus of his mind when Fjord was telling him about Molly sleeping with him. The horrid taste in the back of his throat seeing Molly curled up on him. Being so protective that he pulled out Scorching Ray- a spell he swore he’d never cast again- to save Molly’s life. The way that he loves and draws when Molly touches him, kisses his forehead, hugs him.   
  
The way that the smell of lavender makes him feel lighter than air. Safe. Like nothing else matters in the world.   
He leans back, away, to catch sight of Molly’s face. He’s still asleep. The circles under his eyes are dark, a mottled indigo that Caleb has only ever seen get worse, never better. But the morning sunlight creeps through the gap in his curtains and glances across his curled horns, emphasises every ridge, every chain, every gemstone. If Caleb could loose a hand without waking him, he’s sure he’d be running the pads of his fingers along them to feel the same.   
  
He sighs. Tucks himself back under Molly’s chin and cuddles tight.   
  
Molly doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve Caleb lying to him, telling him all he wants is his friendship, when he knows now that isn’t true. Molly offers him so much, the hugs, the kisses, the physical contact- but Caleb has seen him do the same with Fjord, with Beau, with Jester, it’s a platonic thing, and Molly doesn’t deserve Caleb abusing that to fill his romantically starved heart.   
  
Gods above, how could he have missed this? He’d made the tenuous connection, how Molly was better than Eodwulf, helped him to forget, and yet Caleb had managed to totally skim over the bit about his _relationship_ , the thing he’d compared to.   
  
If Molly knew.   
  
If Molly knew that Caleb felt this way for him, he’d never touch him again. Oh, Caleb doesn’t think that he’d disappear from his life completely, Molly is too sweet for that. But to avoid any sort of implications, any sort of hopes, he could never- reciprocation doesn’t even bear thinking about. Why would Molly ever love him?   
  
After what he’s done, how could _anyone_ ever love him?   
  
Molly’s breath draws deep, pauses, and starts a faster rhythm. The arms around Caleb sense and tighten, and he knows, instinctively, that Molly is awake now.   
  
“Hm. Morning, darling.” Molly kisses the top of his head and Caleb has to try _so damn hard_ not to cry.   
  
“M-” He chokes, swallows, tries again, “Morning, Mollymauk.”   
  
Above, invisible to him Molly frowns a little.   
  
“Are you feeling okay?”   
  
Caleb spends a split second considering.   
  
“I feel a little ill, If I’m honest.” Still pressed to Molly’s collarbone. It’s so tempting, it would be so easy from this position to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. 

He doesn’t. Molly squishes him.  
  
“We have some ginger ale, mostly for Jester. Ginger is good for settling the stomach.”   
  
Caleb shakes his head and draws away, pulls back. Molly has no fucking right being that pretty.   
He sits up, collects the cloak, 

“I think I should return to Nott. I’ve been away two nights, now.”  
_  
‘In your bed.’ _ Caleb thinks grimly.   
  
“That’s fair.” Molly stretches out on his bed, luxurious and slow and Caleb has to fight himself not to watch as Molly’s shirt rides and gives just the briefest view of a slither of skin.  He yawns, blinks, rubs his eyes as Caleb stands up. He gives the wizard a grin, tucking his hands behind his head.   
  
“Come back soon, darling. Bed feels empty without you.”   
  
Caleb says nothing as he flees.

  


Nott is awake when he gets in, and she comes to him, fussing and dragging and pushing him onto the couch.

Caleb bursts into tears.  
  
She crawls up beside him, and though she’s not always the biggest fan of prolonged contact, she hugs him. And cuddles close to him until he falls asleep. 

And then she gets up and goes about cleaning the house.  
  
As it turns out, having, like, twelve people in your house preparing for a search, and then celebrating a successful rescue, it creates a lot of debris. And Nott isn’t willing to wake Caleb with machinery, she spends too damn long brushing instead. Brushing carpet is _hell_. But she sweeps it all onto the tile of the hall, scoops it into a dustpan and empties it into a bin. And then again. And again. And again until the floor looks clean and it must be afternoon, the sun is bright, and the door opens- Fjord. Nott holds a finger up to her lips for silence, quickly, and he nods as he closes the door. Quieter. Stalks in. 

“He’s back?” Fjord says quietly as he draws close. Nott nods,  
  
“And asleep.”   
  
Fjord looks over, Caleb is curled up and out of it.   
  
“D’you think Molly told him about Frumpkin?”   
  
Nott shrugs,   
“Probably. It’d be hard to hide it from him.” Empties the last dustpan and puts it away, sighs, “Coffee?”   
  
“If y’ don’t mind, I’d love one.”   
  
They head to the kitchen alcove, and Fjord lets Nott make the coffee. She gets iffy, he knows, when people start to go through her things, even if she needs to crack out the step-ladder for the higher cabinets. 

“Where’s Jester?” Nott asks, conversational as she measures out coffee.  
  
“Work.” Fjord shrugs. She adds the water. “It’s Monday, café doesn’t close ‘cause her roomie is suffering. She left Yasha with Beau, though ‘s’okay.”   
  
Nott nods.   
  
“Black?”   
  
“As always.”   
  
“Sweetener?”   
  
“No ma’am.”   
  
She slides the cup over to him, makes a face,   
  
“I don’t know how you can drink that bitter bean water.” With a frown as she adds milk to her own, Fjord chuckles, takes a sip. Fuck. Hot. _Power through, Fjord_ .   
  
“Bitter bean water is _good_ , Nott.” he tells her, eyebrows raised. She rolls her eyes. Pours in her syrup.   
  
“I like mine better. Let’s go sit down.”

  


**[17:36:09] from: asshole #6**

I have made a decision about the Academy. If you are still willing to bat for me, I think that I would like to enroll.  
  
****

**  
[17:38:46] to: asshole #6**

sure i mean. dairon already likes ya

 

 **[17:39:15] from: asshole #6** **  
** How do you know?

 

 **[17:41:23] to: asshole #6** **  
** dude she made extra certain to emphasise that you found me  


**[17:41:30] to: asshole #6** **  
** thx for that btw  


Caleb chuckles a little at the text speak. Beauregard.  
  
  
**[17:42:06] from: asshole #6** **  
** It’s fine. And thank you for fighting my battle.

  
  
**[17:43:16] to: asshole #6** **  
** its fine

 

Beau tucks her phone away with a finality and turns back over to scrabble under Yasha’s arm.  
  
“Everything okay?” Yasha asks as she presses up close, and Beau gives a soft sigh of response. Yasha chuckles. “Fair enough.”   
  
“Thanks for stayin’ over. I don’t really, uh. Who wants to be alone after bein’ kidnapped, right?” her laugh is too high-pitched and fractured, and internally, Yasha flails. She twitches her arm around Beau a little tighter, and that seems to be the right thing to do, Beau’s forehead hits Yasha’s shoulder and stays there.   
  
“Thank you.” Beau says. It’s quiet, like an admission, and Yasha smiles a little for it.   
  
“I’m here if you need me.” She tells Beau, softly, and Molly comes to mind as she kisses the top of Beau’s head.   
  
“I know.” Beau tells her, tone dull and defeated, “I know.”

 


	12. App For That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord and Beau spur things along.

 Caleb avoids Molly. As best he can, takes on extra shifts and stays in for lunch, never directly rude or dismissive but stays out of his way as much as he can. Molly comes over to his apartment, Nott tells him that Caleb has gone out, but Molly slept in the hall last night and he knows that isn’t true.

He finds the Cloak of Dreamless Sleep spread out, smooth, on his bed when he comes home from work one day.

A tag in Caleb’s spindly, spidery handwriting just says the word _Sorry_. 

Yasha splits her time between Molly and Beau, she cuddles up to Molly when he breaks a little bit, lets him sleep against her back. Beau’s bruises heal and her broken leg does too, slowly, but Dairon never lets up on her regime. Just adjusts it, so that Beau works on the one leg, never pushes her past her limits because going past her limits with broken bones means a broken student.

Fjord comes over. Caleb drags him into his room and wakes up with his head on Fjord’s chest and an arm around him and it’s not what he wants, but maybe it’s what he needs.  
The time passes.

 

And then the Academy opens.

Beau shoves Caleb’s papers into his hands, wound into a scroll and secured with one of the cobalt blue ribbons she wears in her hair, she grins at him, leaning on one crutch.

“Congratulations, Caleb, you’re an official student of the Cobalt Soul Academy.”

He gives her a hard, tight, one-armed hug that she reciprocates enthusiastically and plays off when he pulls back. Pats his shoulder hard, and if her grip on him is a little too tight, he doesn’t comment on it. She’s had a rough time. He understands that.

When Caleb gets back to his apartment, Nott waves an identical scroll at him and he rushes over to her, scoops her up and spins.

“Students of the Academy.” She sings to him, tone one of pure excitement, “Look at us now.”

 

Caleb’s first real test comes on the first day of being an Academy student.

Fjord leans up against the doorjamb.

“Nott! Y’ready to go?”

“Yes! Yes, just a second.” Nott flits about, Caleb looks up from the couch, where he’s got his nose buried in a book on Magic. Again.

“Oh, is it time to leave?”

Packs the book and stands and Fjord flushes, looks away awkwardly,

“Look, Caleb, I don’t- uh- I don’t know how t’ tell y’, but. My car’s full.”

“Oh.” Caleb drops his shoulders. He’d forgotten to ask for a lift. “I’ll walk. It’s fine.”

“You can’t walk it in time, or in this weather, it’s fuckin’ poundin’ it out there.”

It’s true. Caleb can hear it on his window from here.

“I thought you’d get a lift with Molly.”

Caleb fights the blush and knows that he doesn’t succeed with the way Fjord’s eyes widen and he steps in. Nott, blessedly, slips into her room to find something or other she mumbles about.

“Oh, shit.” Fjord catches Caleb’s chin with a knuckle and lifts, “You got it bad for Molly.”

There’s a look of dawning realisation on him that Caleb just _hates_ . 

“That’s why you’ve been avoidin’ him! Fuckin’, Caleb, do you know how many times I’ve had him- no. Ain’t my business. But fuck you, go ask him for a ride.”

Caleb chews his lip.

“I got Yasha. He’s alone and won’t leave ‘til late, that’s why nobody ‘cept Cali catches a lift with him, an’ she’s away this week. Go. Or I swear to the Gods that I’ll run him through, I am so sick o’ his bullshit.”

If he’d threatened Caleb, it would have done nothing. But he watches the way that Caleb’s eyes widen fractionally when he threatens Molly, and knows that he’s done right.  
Caleb nods, slips past, and leaves as Nott comes back into the room. 

“Caleb?” she asks Fjord.

“Gone t’ get a lift with Molly.” He answers, pats her shoulder as she passes, “C’mon, we’re runnin’ late an’ Beau gets cranky if she don’t get her coffee before classes start.”

 

Caleb doesn’t knock at the door to Molly’s apartment. He slips in, quiet, and it’s been so long since he’s been in here that it seems alien to him.

Three weeks since he realised that he’s in love with Mollymauk Tealeaf.

Mollymauk Tealeaf, who is walking around his apartment _stark fucking naked._

“Oh.” That’s not the reaction that _normal_ people have when they see someone walk into their home, “Hey, Caleb.” 

Caleb tries very deliberately not to look, to avoid the sight of Molly. Naked. If he looks directly, he thinks his eyes might burn out of his head, like looking directly at the sun. It makes Molly chuckle, even if it stings him, just a little bit.

“Not a crime to check out a friend, you know?” Molly winks his way, watches Caleb turn bright red, “I’m _very_ aware that I’m attractive, Caleb. Come into my room, I can’t hear you if you talk out there.” 

He disappears in the door and Caleb, cursing himself, follows. Leans against the door as he tries not to watch Molly dress.

“I- hm. F-Fjord suggested that I should, should, um. Ask. You. For a ride to the Academy. He couldn’t- not enough room-”

“Caleb.” Molly manages to get his jeans pulled up before he turns, “You don’t even _need_ to ask.” 

Molly’s tattoos curl across his shoulders expertly, Caleb is always amazed by this. It occurs to him that Molly is, still, shirtless. And considering that fact makes Caleb look down at himself.  
He’s wearing Molly’s shirt. The flannel that he was given the day of the coffee incident.   
He hadn’t even realised. 

Molly smirks at his expression, slips himself into a crop top of all things. Grabs that ridiculously complex coat and shrugs it on, smooths it out.  
What necklace today? He picks rhodonite, pink with crackles of black, best of both worlds between the rose quartz he favours and the onyx he wants to match Caleb’s. 

“Glad to see I’m special to you.” Molly smiles as he turns back to him.

“ _Ja_.” Caleb agrees, absentmindedly. He plays with the cuff of the shirt. “Very special.” 

Molly pauses on his way past, leans in, and kisses Caleb’s temple.

“Thank you, darling.”

And then it’s like nothing had ever changed, like the last three weeks disappear and mean nothing and all of the angst and pain and loneliness is forgotten. Molly holds Caleb’s hand as they rumble down the stairs, they laugh together on the way to the car, Molly’s arm warm and heavy around Caleb’s waist. He kisses Caleb’s cheek quickly before they split to opposite sides of the car, and Caleb climbs into the passenger seat.

He watches Molly swing himself in and brush his hair back, his jeans straight, clips himself in and turns the key. The car chugs to life, and Molly rolls his shoulders as he sets one hand on the wheel, leans over to grab and squish Caleb’s hand with the other. When he lets go, he leans over and shoves a hand into his glove compartment, feeling around, can’t quite get it.

“Caleb, could you have a look in here, could you get me another lollipop? I like to have something in my mouth when I’m driving.”

Caleb rolls his eyes and leans forward so he can see. He finds one lone lollipop, and a knife. A _knife_. 

“Why do you have a knife in your car?” He pulls the wrapper off of the lollipop and hands it to Molly, who shrugs, pops it in his mouth,

“Might come in handy someday. Just gotta be careful I don’t try to eat it.”

Caleb chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief, and Molly shifts the lollipop to the side of his mouth, 

“Right! Let’s go get some _grades._ ” he grins, smile bright with infectious wild excitement, and he floors it out of the underground parking lot.

 

 

Beau’s bought them all coffee when they arrive. It seems that Molly works to a schedule, the coffee is still hot, and Caleb thinks that it could do with a shot of vodka- he’s been getting rides with Fjord so often, he’d forgotten how horrific Molly’s driving was.

Caleb and Molly come in together, Caleb clings to Molly like a limpet, Molly chuckles with his arm around Caleb’s waist, pulling him close as they wander over. Beau hands Caleb his coffee, Jester gives Molly his tea.

“Ah. Perfect. Jester, darling, you know me _far_ too well.” He extracts himself from Caleb to lean down and kiss the top of her head, Beau huffs, folds her eyes as she bumps her shoulder to Caleb’s. 

“I _bought_ ‘em.” 

“Ah,” Molly holds a finger up for her, “But Jester ordered. You can’t tell me she didn’t, you don’t know shit about me.”

Beau keeps her frown firm and turns away from him deliberately, to Caleb instead, pulls him aside a little. As best she can, on one crutch, at least.

“How ya doin’? Feelin’ okay?”

“Careful, Beauregard,” Caleb smiles, somewhat sly, sips his coffee, “People will think you care.”

“Nah.” Beau backhands away the subtle insult, “As long as I look mad, they just think I’m chewin’ you out over playin’ Molly’s feelin’s the past couple weeks.”

Caleb laughs nervously,

“ _Ja_ I, came up with something of… a revelation, the night we spent together after you were- when we rescued you.” 

Beau’s eyes turn the kind of cold curious that Caleb means she _knows_ something. 

“Revelation, huh? Must’ve been _pretty big_ for you to spend three weeks avoidin’ him.” 

Caleb smiles a deliberate, cryptic smile. He won’t share secrets if she wont.

“It certainly turned my world upside down, _ja_.” 

He turns back to the group, Beau catches his arm before he can leave,

“Oh, come on.” She whines. Definitely doesn’t whine. “What was it?”

Caleb’s smile strengthens,

“You know something already, Beau. Why should I share if you will not?”

“‘Cause if I have the wrong secret, it’s not mine to give, y’know? Yours _is_ yours to give.” 

Caleb ponders that.

“You know, Fjord had much the same to say when he came over this morning.”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No.” Caleb chuckles, and pulls her in, the hugs between them are always awkward and clumsy but heartfelt. She pats the back of his head a little too hard and he makes a noise of pain.  
Beau laughs.

“Beau!” Molly’s voice reaches them, he calls from his place draped around Fjord’s shoulders, “What are you doing to my wizard?”

“Huggin’ him!” Beau calls back, “That such a crime?”

“Coming from you? Usually.” Molly draws up and saunters over and Beau doesn’t let go of Caleb. He isn’t _trying_ to get out of her grip, seems relaxed against her, so she’s going to milk it for _all it’s fucking worth_ . 

“Anyway, what’s this about _your_ wizard?” Beau turns as though she’s guarding Caleb from Molly, she can hear the wizard chuckling quietly against her ear. It fills her with, disgustingly, happiness. “Last I checked, Molly, you hadn’t put any claims on him.” 

“Thought it was implied.” Molly rolls his eyes, and Beau pulls Caleb to arms reach, tugs his collar aside a little so she can see his collarbone.

“Uh- Beauregard?” Caleb says, nervous

Beau smooths it back into place, and he nods his thanks. Beau gives Molly a pointed look.

“I don’t see any marks. I know what you _tieflings_ are like.” 

She reaches over to tap Molly’s nose, and he flinches away, going cross-eyed to stare at his own nose.  
Caleb watches him flush, and he can’t believe he hasn’t really noticed before- Molly goes such a pretty shade of red-violet when he’s blushing, across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, _the tips of his ears_. Oh Gods, it’s so cute. 

Beau still has a hand on his neck and turns, quizzically, at the sensation of Caleb tensing, his raised heart rate. 

Caleb’s eyes are focused on Molly.

“M- ah. M-marks?” he stutters, tries to question, and Beau almost laughs at how flustered he is. Molly looks down, avoids his eyes as he shrugs,

“Yeah, I mean- tieflings are _weird_ you know? Possessive? They mark their people.” 

“Yasha has one.” Beau tells Caleb, “So does Fjord. Both from Molly.”

Caleb’s head tilts and his adoration is tinged with jealousy. He recognises jealousy, now. 

“You have one.” Molly counters, tugs her collar down and she puffs out her chest. It’s just a fucking _bite mark_ , but the pattern of the teeth is very characteristic. 

“Jester?” Caleb asks, and Beau laughs, unashamed and bright,

“Yeah! Works _wonders_ for gang tieflings. Just flash ‘em a mark an’ they piss themselves.” 

“Beau!” Fjord calls, “Beau, time!”

She flashes a look to her phone and curses loudly,

“Godsdammit. C’mon, Yasha, we gotta run- see y’ later, Caleb. Asshole.” She takes off, shockingly fast despite the crutch. And reaches Yasha.

Yasha ducks down and scoops her up, bridal style, easily. Beau waves her crutch, cheering, as Yasha legs it out of the foyer, Beau in her arms, trailing laughter and cheers behind her.  
Molly comes to Caleb’s side, shaking his head. 

“She _will_ get herself killed one of these days, you know.” 

“Molly.” Caleb shuffles closer to him, “Would-”

Caleb’s brain thinks better of it at the last second. He couldn’t, in any moral sense, ask for Molly to mark him. His feelings are clouding his judgement. But the idea of being _Molly’s_ is intoxicating in every sense, and he closes his eyes and leans in to Molly’s arm. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Molly tucks an arm around his shoulders, and Caleb hums something that sounds like a yes. Molly squishes him and lets go,

“Right, our first class is at half past. Wait, you’re in Enchantment too, right?”

“Uh,” Caleb hasn’t looked at his timetable yet. He pulls it from his pocket, flicks his eyes over it, and tucks it away again, “ _Ja_ , Enchantment until twelve, and then an hour of lunch before Runes.” 

“Oof.” Molly says, pottering back to the group, “I hear Runes is rough. Are you taking any of the other classes?”

“History, _ja_ , but I only have three sessions of that a week, on Wednesday and Thursday.” 

Molly hums,

“I take History, too, but it’s more…” He scrunches his face in a way that makes Caleb’s heart soften, “An interest, rather than an actual grade. So, you know, only in on Thursdays.”

“What’re you fine fellas talkin’ about so intently?” Fjord breaks them as they draw closer, and they both pick a seat. Molly takes Yasha’s from beside Fjord, and Caleb take’s Beau’s, beside Nott.

“Classes.” Molly tells him idly, “Caleb’s taking Enchantment, Runes, and History. This year, I’m on Enchantment, Weapon Combat, and Curses. And History once a week, but not mandatory.”

“Ah, right. You two are th’ only ones on Enchantment from our disaster gang.”

“Oh, you dropped it?” Molly leans across the table. He’s so languid, it’s like he belongs everywhere he goes, and Caleb is envious of that. Everything he does is so perfect, every part of him, each line of his tattoos and the way the strand of hair that forms his bangs curls a little at the ends. Caleb loves him. Everything about him.

“Caleb?” Molly tips his head at him, “Zoning out a lot today. Are you sure you’re okay? I can take you home.”

Caleb shakes his head. As much as he’d like the time at home alone, things he could be doing, he needs to be here for his first day of classes. 

“I am just thinking. I do that a lot, Mollymauk.”

Molly gives that laugh that Caleb loves. The one that sounds like a bell.  
Caleb’s phone hums.

  
  
**FROM: Seaman (Fjord)** **  
** i really hope you ain’t tryin to be subtle, caleb.

 **FROM: Seaman (Fjord)** **  
** im goin to colour picker your face right now. you should see it. its a picture.

  
Fjord lifts his phone, inconspicuous under Molly’s talking, and Caleb buries his face in his hands.   
  
“Caleb? Darling?” Molly asks, concerned. Caleb gives a groan of reply.   
  
Molly leans across the table and kisses his forehead, and Caleb hears that little _snap_ of Fjord’s camera

 

  
**FROM: Seaman (Fjord)** ****  
****

****  
****  
**TO: Seaman (Fjord)** ****  
I will have him cut you. It will not be hard.

  
**FROM: Seaman (Fjord)** ****  
lol caleb, to do that youd have t tell him why. i don’t think so.  


Caleb puts his phone down on the table and lets it buzz itself out as Fjord texts him furiously, he won’t cave. Eventually, Fjord gives up, huffs a little as he sets his phone down and Molly picks his up, checks the time,

“Oh. We should go, Caleb. Class.”

Caleb inclines his head and stands, moves toward Molly.  
Smacks the back of Fjord’s head as he goes. 

“Fuck!” Fjord yelps.

Caleb smirks, bows sideways,

“I don’t think I will need to give him a reason.”

Molly is holding an arm out for him, and Caleb takes it, lets Molly lead him away as Fjord grumbles. It hadn’t been hard, he isn’t really hurt, Caleb knows Fjord’s pain threshold well and wouldn’t cross it on purpose. He’s not an animal.

 

  
Molly and Caleb plod along down the hallway, mumbled conversations about Fjord, and Molly stops them with a jerk. 

“Frumpkin.” He says, “Last time- before you- Frumpkin?”

Caleb shakes his head,

“I haven’t been able to- to afford to bring him back, yet.”

“Even with all of those extra shifts you’ve been taking to avoid me?” Molly raises his eyebrows.

“I- ah.” Caleb goes to reply, and realises what Molly has said, “You, um. You must be, mistaken, I was taking extra shifts to help- help Nott with rent, and food.”

Molly’s arm is still looped through Caleb’s and he shifts to pull away.

“Darling,” He says, low, a little dangerous, “Please don’t lie to me.”

Caleb avoids his eyes,

“All of my money has been going to Nott.” Lie. “I’ve been working most days and some nights for overtime, Jester has been very kind about it all.” Partially a lie. Jester has been nice about it. “I haven’t been avoiding you, Mollymauk.” Lie. Big lie. Biggest lie that Caleb has ever told.

Molly hums, disbelieving, continues walking and lets Caleb jog to catch up with him.

“I can’t afford to bring him back yet.” Truth. “I’m sorry, Molly.”  
Big truth.   
Biggest truth Caleb has ever told. 

Molly sighs, hand on the door to their Enchantment classroom, he leans over to Caleb and kisses his cheek so gently it should be criminal. Caleb thinks it should, at least.

“Try telling me what’s wrong, next time.” He pushes the door open, the class is almost empty, two students sitting at desks and the tutor with their head bowed over paperwork.

Caleb follows him down an aisle to seats, Molly leans closer.

“I thought- uh- I thought I’d scared you off. With. The history, and hating… everything.”

“But not me.” Caleb replies, quietly.

“Never you.” Molly agrees. He lays his hand over Caleb’s on the desk, gently, affectionately.

 

Caleb laces their fingers together.


	13. Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A class, a drop, and a nightmare.

There are twenty-three people in Molly and Caleb’s Enchantment class.  
None that Caleb recognises, but Molly, being Molly, seems to know them all.   
  
“Nancy! Good to see you, how’s the tattoo doing?” Molly leans across the desk to call.   
  
“Lorelei, back this year too? Thought you’d given it up!”   
  
“Ivan? See, I told you that your fate lay in this class.”   
  
He doesn’t let go of Caleb’s hand until he absolutely has to, grumbling softly that he should sit on Caleb’s left next time. When Caleb shoots him a quizzical look, Molly switches the pen from his right hand to his left, continues writing near-seamlessly, the only indication of the change being the slight smudging across the page as Molly’s hand daubs the still-wet ink. 

Caleb gives a low hum of appreciation. Is there _anything_ that Molly can’t do?   
He doesn’t think so.   
  
They’re paired up to test their abilities against one another, recommended to pick someone that they trust. Watching out over the class sees Lorelei pick a gold dragonborn hiding in the corner, Ivan pairing with a halfling he’s been chattering to the whole lesson, and Nancy rakes her eyes over Molly. Blinks, owlish and questioning.   
Molly slings an arm around Caleb, kisses his hair, mouths _sorry_ when he turns back. Nancy picks a slight, blonde half-elf instead, dubious but enthusiastic despite, and Caleb leans in to Molly.   
  
“You trust me?” He asks, small, and Molly shrugs against him, 

“Of course.”  
  
“You can’t-” 

“Caleb, love, you say that people can’t trust you because they don’t know what you’ve done. Well, I _do_ , and I trust you. If that’s unwise, more fool me, I don’t care. You’re important to me, and I trust you.” 

Caleb just stares at him. “Okay.” He thinks he might say, at one point, and something in his mind pings that the first spell is to be cast but his attention is on Molly, what is he meant to do? He can’t stop. Staring. And he feels the wash of magic but it’s like it isn’t doing _anything,_ all that he can feel is the same. The appreciation.   
Molly’s hair. Each little wave and bump and that bit of frizziness that always hovers around his ponytail, each feather in the peacock, the one that curls up under his eye that Caleb has the sudden burning desire to kiss… actually, now that he thinks about it, Caleb finds he’d quite like to kiss _every_ peacock feather on Molly’s body. And then some.   
Molly’s voice is so nice. Has it always been this smooth? This sweet? Like syrup, like lavender honey, it’s- 

Oh.

Molly stops talking and coughs and coughs and coughs and Caleb moves in instinctively, pats his back and murmurs and bundles him in.

“Did it work?” Molly manages through choking, and Caleb frowns.

“Did what work?” He asks, Molly feels the rumble of his words through his head, tucked under Caleb’s chin as he’s cuddled.

“Enthrall.” Molly leans into him, eyes closed, exhausted, “I asked you, you said- shit, Caleb, I’m sorry.”

“I did not notice any change.” Caleb says, the tinge of a smile to him, his arms looped around Molly loosely. “What was supposed to happen?”

“Enthrall makes it very hard to focus on anything except me.”

Oh. _Oops_. That’s just daily life for Caleb. 

“I- uh- yes, then, actually- you know, I think it did work. I found myself appreciating. Um. Your voice.”

“ _Cay-leb_.” Molly lilts, a terrifyingly Jester-like tone, “Do you appreciate my voice often, then?” 

“Not like that.” Caleb answers honestly before he can think better of it, “I usually have tight reins on my… emotional matters.”

“Yes. Of course. That’s why we’re cuddling in the middle of a classroom, and you’re telling me just how much you love my voice.”

Caleb laughs, awkward, but genuine, shoves Molly away from him playfully.

“If that’s the way you want to be, Mollymauk…”

“Just get on with the spell.” Molly rolls his eyes, leans on one arm on the desk. Caleb mimics him,

“But Mollymauk,” He says, and focuses on the soft hum and lilt of his words, “I think that it would be a far better idea to procrastinate. I think, maybe, you should text one of our friends… ask-” His brain struggles- “Ask them to host a party, this weekend?”

Why did he suggest that? Of all things? A _party?_

He watches Molly’s eyes fuzz with the Suggestion, and Caleb watches with his heart in his throat.  
Molly nods, pulls out his phone from his ridiculous coat and Caleb leans back with a smile. A smug smile. Molly types something, quickly, shoots it off, and the haze clears. 

“Oh. Oh, you sneaky fuck!” Molly says, and laughs, he takes a handful of Caleb’s shirt and pulls him in to kiss his cheek hard. There’s too much bone, there will be bruising, but it’s good enough.

“Who did you ask?”

“Beau and Jester.” Molly grins, eyes flicking over his own enchantment-fueled text, “They’re always game for some crazy shit.”

Caleb rolls his eyes, somewhat nervously, he’s not the biggest fan of parties. But if Molly is going to be there, what could go wrong?

“Do you have any more Enchantment spells?”

“I have two.” Molly holds up his fingers, “A cantrip, and a spell.”

“Do you want to try the spell first?”

“It lasts an hour.” Molly groans, pushes his face into his hands, and Caleb smiles and shakes his head,

“Gets us out of doing more work. Go ahead.”

Molly relents, cocks his head, takes on a devious smile, 

“As you wish, my darling,” Caleb feels that tenuous thread of magic between them, “You have such _excellent_ ideas.” 

Caleb tries to fight it off. Partially, it’s a fear of the weakness, of being weak for Molly. He could do so many things, could force things from him, and he’s scared.  
And partially, he just wants to piss Molly off.   
Molly feels the resistance and doubles down,  
  
“You and I trust one another, Caleb, I’m sure you’ll forgive me. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, you know I care.” 

Maybe it’s the notes of honesty, maybe he just loses the battle, but Caleb’s mind caves. He blinks, and stares up at Molly with such loving eyes that Molly finds himself uncomfortable looking at it. 

Caleb sighs, blissfully.

“Oh.” Molly says, as it tips a line, “Oh, no, no, I don’t think so.”

He flicks Caleb’s forehead, right between the eyes, and relaxes when he recoils and yelps.

“You did not even test it!” Caleb protests, puts his hand to his head and fake-whines. Molly chuckles as he pulls him in and brushes his hand aside to kiss the spot he’d flicked.

“Sorry. Sorry. I just didn’t like- I _made_ you look at me like that, you know? Like you’d throw yourself off a cliff for me if I asked.” 

That description sends a chill up Caleb’s spine. He’s seen that expression. It’s terrifying.  
But the fact that Molly _couldn’t even keep him under for a minute_. It means a lot. So much. 

Caleb takes Molly’s face in his hands.

“Thank you.”

“It’s all a show of sincerity, Enchantment between friends.” Molly smiles, “You put yourself in my hands. You trusted me.”

He pushes, rubs like a cat against Caleb’s palm.  
Nancy leans over the desk above them, long hair dripping over the edge, 

“You got yourself a boyfriend, Molly?”

Caleb freezes, Molly presses his fingertips to the back of his hand.

“Platonic, Nancy, come on. Don’t embarrass the boy.” Molly looks over to her, light and airy, and her face splits into a grin. Sunny and honest.

“Shame! Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this affectionate, even with Fjord.”

“Fjord keeps our affection to closed quarters.” Molly counters, slips Caleb’s hands from his face as he talks, “He’s not big on the public side, you know?”

“Aye, s’pose I can understand that.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, “Still. Nice to see you so happy. Nancy.”

She holds her hand out to Caleb, it’s an awkward angle, but he shakes.

“Caleb.”

“Oh, _you’re_ Caleb!” 

Molly is hit with a sudden vivid recollection of the day of the coffee spill. Of him leaning over Nancy’s shoulder, inking colour into her, nattering back-and-forth. Of him telling her about the _very_ attractive new man that has just moved into the apartment block.   
Nancy studies him, Molly silently wills her not to say anything. Her eyes flicker to Molly’s wide, begging eyes, and she leans back. 

“Molly was telling me you’d moved in. Said he liked you. I’d keep an eye on that one.” She winks at Caleb, looks over her shoulder, “Oh, looks like Kara managed to break my hold. Best get back. Have fun, Molly, see you next week!”

She flexes her left arm, emphasises a mostly-coloured tattoo spanning most of her shoulder and bicep, and then disappears back to her partner.

Caleb buries his face in his hands, and Molly laughs, a little awkwardly.

“Sorry.”

“You were so _relaxed_ , Mollymauk, if someone had asked me that about you I may have exploded.” 

Molly loops an arm around his shoulders,

“Never seen someone explode before. Maybe next time I’ll say yes,” He teases, and Caleb whines as he buries himself in Molly’s chest.

Molly kisses the top of his head.

“Not that there’s much difference anyway.” he says, absent-minded as he looks over the rest of the class, “Between dating and not.”

“Stop talking.” Caleb groans, “Stop. You-”

He pulls back, straightens himself out,

“You said you had a- a cantrip.”

“Ah.” Molly’s light expression turns stormy, “I won’t use that on you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the kind that causes pain. And it’s you. I won’t.”

Caleb scans his mental list for spells matching that criteria.

“Vicious Mockery.” he comes up with, and Molly nods,

“Tiefling bonuses, you know?”

Caleb nods knowingly, sighs as he stretches out,

“How long have we got left?”

Molly checks his phone and startles,

“Oh! First, ten minutes left. Second, party at Beau’s place this Friday! She’s getting her cast off, what a champ.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows at the compliment, Molly levels him with a stare,

“Tell her I said that, and I’ll cry, Caleb.” he says, points at Caleb with one hand. Caleb catches it, mid-air, and watches Molly deliberately as he kisses the pad of the one extended finger. Molly’s hands are surprisingly soft, for a man who dual-wields scimitars.  
Molly turns that beautiful red-violet flush of fluster, and Caleb smirks for himself.

 

Their lunch on Mondays doesn’t match up to Yasha’s, Jester’s, or Beau’s, but Nott and Fjord find themselves free with Caleb and Molly lounging all over one another in the common area.  
More specifically, after the first sharp look from Fjord when they were fighting over who got to lie on who, Molly has seated himself on the floor between Caleb’s knees, chin on his arms, leaning on Caleb’s right thigh. The wizard strokes his hair gently from behind, absent, almost. 

“Did you find what I asked for, Fjord?” Molly hums lazily from Caleb’s lap. It gets Caleb’s attention, he sits upright, Fjord nods,

“You’re a pest, but yeah. Nott an’ I went out an’ got it.”

Fjord pulls out a little canvas bag and holds it out, not to Molly, but to Caleb.

“What- what is this? Mollymauk, not more gifts?” he takes the bag anyway. He’s getting better at that.

“It’s on Beau this time, just that I know what you needed and she didn’t.”

Molly cracks an eye open.

“We still have an hour and fifteen left before next class.”

Caleb is speechless. Staring wordlessly into the bag, a little brass brazier and what must be easily over ten gold of herbs, good quality incense, and charcoal.

“Well,” Molly preens, checks his nails, “ _your_ next class.” 

Caleb sets the bag down carefully  and pulls at the scruff of Molly’s collar until he blithers his way to standing up. And then to falling again, Caleb tackles him so hard. They tumble into Fjord, Nott yelps as she jumps away, and Caleb wraps one arm around each man, sobbing thanks into Molly’s shoulder.  
Molly kisses his forehead gently, 

“I know you appreciate it, my darling, but if you want him around for Runes,  you should get casting.”

Caleb straightens to standing with Molly, nods,

“There is an empty classroom down the hall. Would you join me, Mollymauk?”

“I’m sure Nott and Fjord have a class at some point soon…” Molly checks his phone, and both Nott and Fjord nod,

“We got, uh… Ranged Attacks.”

Caleb curses.

“I almost chose that, but I felt my aim was fine.”

Fjord shrugs,

“I just took it ‘cause I can make two green booms now, ‘stead of one. Gotta be careful.”

“That’s fair.” Molly nods, loops his arm through Caleb’s, “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Molly. You too.”

 

Caleb leads the way, through to the quiet, empty classroom, and Molly sits on the desk at the front as Caleb draws up the runes and begins to burn.

“Mollymauk?” he asks, back to the tiefling, drawing each glyph carefully with the ash of the brazier.

“Yes?” Molly swings his legs idly, lightly, the dust-warm room is making him sleepy.

“Thank you. For this. For Frumpkin.” Caleb says, and his voice is almost too quiet to be heard, “I love you.”

Molly gives a breath of laughter,

“As Nott says, Caleb, you’re my friend. I’ll try to do anything for you.”

It sounds as though he skips over the last part, easily. Caleb isn’t looking. Caleb doesn’t see the way that Molly’s fingers go automatically to his necklace, the rhodonite, shatter pattern pink-and-black for both of them.

 

It isn’t mentioned again.

 

Beau gets her cast off on Thursday afternoon. Takes Caleb with her, though he’s exhausted from History class and falls asleep against her shoulder whilst she waits, he holds her hand the whole time they’re cutting it.  
There’s scans and fuss and instruction, but Jester’s healing magic has expedited the process significantly- Beau is back to almost full strength. Banned from acrobatics and running for another two to three weeks, but she can walk, now, and she stretches everything in her. 

“Ugh, I am _so_ fucking glad to get out of that shit.” She tells Caleb firmly, even over their clasped hands. Maybe it’s a habit he’s picked up from Molly, Caleb just really likes holding people’s hands. 

“I am glad to have you back.” Caleb admits, faux-grudging, the sentiment is real. She laughs, a familiar, raucous sound that Caleb can’t help but love. 

“Ready to party tomorrow, though?” She grins at him as she asks, “It’s gonna be _huge_. But-” She sees his face and quickens her words, “My bedroom is cooldown, okay? Only you and… Uh… what would you even call our group?” 

Caleb clicks and ponders. Their group chat is _Disaster Floor_ but that doesn’t quite fit. 

“We should ask. We should ask that.”  
  
****

**Salty Spitoon** **  
** i like th disaster brigade if i’m honest  
  
  
♪ **Lollipop, lollipop ♪** **  
** Oh oh oh!!!!! How about the MEATY SEVEN!!! There is seven of us, and most of us are very strong

♪ **Lollipop, lollipop ♪** **  
** Half of us are very strong

♪ **Lollipop, lollipop ♪** **  
** Yasha and I are very strong.  
  
  
**Electric Boogaloo**   
Mighty? Would Mighty Work?  


**Star Student Beauregard** **  
** Mighty 7?   
  
**  
Salty Spitoon**   
doesn’t have the nicest ring to it   
  
**  
Arschloch** **  
** Nein. Bad choices.   
  
**  
Leg So Hot U Fry An Egg** **  
** I like Caleb’s suggestion.   
  
**  
Star Student Beauregard** **  
** Ofc you do.   
  
**  
Leg So Hot U Fry An Egg** **  
** The Mighty Nein!   
  
  
♪ **Lollipop, lollipop ♪** **  
** NEIN!   
  
**  
Star Student Beauregard** **  
** NEIN   
  
**  
Salty Spitoon** **  
** NEIN   
  
**  
Arschloch** **  
** That settles it. You all are also Arschloch.

 

Beau laughs in his ear as he tucks his phone away, and he can’t help the smile despite his exasperation.  
  
“You made your own bed, dude.” Beau shoulder-bumps him, “Lie in it.”   
  
“I _far_ prefer not sleeping alone.” 

“I’ve seen Nott’s bed, you’re not gettin’ in there.” Beau shakes her head, “Molly or Fjord?”  
  
“Yasha, actually.” Caleb lets Beau pull him around a corner. They can see Fjord napping in his car from here.   
  
“Is that why she ain’t been over lately?” Beau clicks her tongue a couple of times, “S’pose I can give you that. Don’t get used to it, that’s _mine_.”   
  
“She’s an oddly relaxing presence, I’m sure you know. There always seems to be a breeze in her room.” 

Beau shrugs as she finally lets go of his hand,  
“Ventilation, I guess. Shotgun-!” 

She’s in the front seat before Caleb can even roll his eyes, Fjord wakes with a start as the door is flung open.  
Caleb climbs into the back, Fjord leans across to Beau and pats her leg gently,  
“Holdin’ up?” 

“No runnin’, jumpin’, bein’ myself, or havin’ fun for another couple weeks, otherwise, I’m good.” Beau buckles up and leans back, stretching all over again, Caleb tucks his arms under his head against the window. Fjord checks on him in the mirror, catches just the side of him leaning away, chuckles.

“Y’doin’ okay there, Caleb? Tired?”

“Exhausted.” Caleb agrees, and Fjord’s smile grows,

“Best get a good night of sleep in y’, Beau’s parties go hard.”

Caleb hums a response, the car rumbles to action, and he falls asleep before they even leave the parking lot.  


Beau wakes him in the underground lot of the apartment, pokes his knee until he sits and stretches, unbuckles. She opens the door for him and he slips out, feeling much like he thinks a slinky might if it was sentient.

“You okay, dude?”

“Very, very tired.”

History is exhausting. It’s been teachings of those using the Wish spell for unconventional purposes, and how hard they burnt themselves out following. There’s diagrams, scars, some people have blasted themselves to death trying to get it to work and it still hadn’t.  
  
It makes Caleb feel sick. No less determined, but sick.  
  
Two months ago, he thinks, he would have happily given his life to fix the mistakes of his past, but now… he has something. Someone. People to live for.   
Molly is in his Thursday classes, he’d held Caleb’s hand under the desk- sitting on his left side- and squeezed when he heard Caleb’s breathing quicken.

 

Caleb collapses to bed early. Alone.   
  
The nightmares come for him. 

Since giving Molly the Cloak, they’ve been very, very common, and Caleb sleeps just after dusk and wakes at midnight in a cold sweat and crying. His hands burn, the shirt at his chest is singed, he’s been casting in his sleep again.

He pulls his phone from the desk and texts Molly. It’s agony, but he’s shaking and Molly is all that he wants, everything that can make this better.  
  
****

**TO: Beauty, Grace (Molly)** **  
** Mollymauk, are you awake?   
  
****

**FROM: Beauty, Grace (Molly)** **  
** Night owl, my darling. Something wrong?   
  
Caleb shakes over his phone, he can barely see through his own tears and he burns and he can’t bother Molly, he tosses the phone into the dark and there’s a spit-and-hiss as it narrowly misses Frumpkin. The phone buzzes from the blackness. Twice. 

And then falls silent, and Caleb curls himself into a ball on his bed with his burnt hands held carefully close, rocking himself back and forth as best he can with no real idea of why he’s doing it. He sobs. Hard.

So hard, he doesn’t hear the door to their apartment opening. Or the footsteps.

He barely hears Molly open his bedroom door, but he sees the torchlight from his phone, hooded by long fingers curled over it.

“Oh, Caleb, sweetheart.” Molly puts his phone down on Caleb’s desk, beside Frumpkin, as he rushes past. He crawls onto the edge of the bed,

“Can I touch? Is that okay?”

Caleb’s hands tremble, he nods, and Molly puts his hands on Caleb’s wrists and draws them out, pries them away gently, Caleb feels the lukewarm touch of Molly at the backs of his hands and relaxes, instantly, just a little bit.  
Molly inspects Caleb’s palms, hisses in sympathy at the blisters and burnt skin. 

“I’m going to get some cool water, I won’t be long, and then I won’t leave again. Okay?”

Caleb nods, chewing his lip under the pain, and Molly kisses his forehead unthinkingly before he stands and leaves. Caleb hears the clinking and clattering of the bowls, the rush of the water of the tap, and then Molly reappears in the doorway with one of their big glass bowls. Full of water, with one of their little cloths on his shoulder.

“Hands in here.” Molly says softly, sets the bowl on Caleb’s bed and grabs his phone from the side, “I’m going to text someone for help. Would you prefer Yasha, or Jester?”

Caleb submerges his hands in the cool water, the pain eases immediately, and he can give only sobs of response.

“Alright.” Molly sits on the bed across from Caleb, the other side of the bowl of water, “Shake or nod. Jester?”

Caleb shakes, slow, but shakes his head.

“Yasha?”

Caleb chews his lip, doesn’t reply immediately, but eventually manages to nod. Slowly.  
  
****

**From: Molly** **  
** Sorry to wake you darling, but could you do me the BIGGEST favour?   
  
****

**To: Molly**   
I Was Awake It’s Fine. What Now?   
  
****

**From: Molly** **  
** Could you grab the cloak from my bed and bring it and yourself to Caleb’s room?   
  
****

**To: Molly** **  
** What’s Wrong With Getting It Yourself?   
  
****

**From: Molly** **  
** I won’t leave him like this! Please, Yasha?   


Yasha sighs and turns the phone over, sets the book she was skim-reading face-down on the bed and slips up, out, grabs the Cloak of Dreamless Sleep along the way. 

When she finds Molly and Caleb sitting on the bed, Caleb’s hands in the water, she almost betrays her sudden shock of worry.

“What happened?” She comes up, drapes the cloak around Molly’s shoulders and kneels beside the bed, eyes on the bowl.

“Burnt hands.” Molly answers.

“Bad dreams.” Caleb manages.

Yasha smiles, holds her hands out palm-up. “Let me help.”

Caleb looks at Molly in struck panic. Molly gives him a gentle, reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, my darling, she can help.”

Molly feels that swell in his heart, the one that always accompanies Caleb being close. The protective instinct, the adoration, the love.  
Caleb lifts his hands, dripping, from the water and Yasha takes them before he can think about needing to dry off. She takes a deep breath and hums softly, closes her eyes and focuses, and a soft, yellow-white glow begins to fill the room, spilling down veins from under Yasha’s cloak, pooling in her hands, rippling around Caleb’s.   
The grip is loose, the ripples thicken, coating Caleb’s hands like cool honey, the pain lessens, declines, the heat seeps away. 

When Yasha takes her hands back, there’s only a couple of patches of scarring, everything else has healed over. 

Caleb stares in awe.

“Thank you.” 

Yasha smiles and stands, picks the bowl from the bed as she does so.

“I’ll pour this out. See you in the morning, Molly.” She leans and kisses the top of Molly’s head, first, and then Caleb’s. Leaves, before either of them can say anything more.

“You are staying?” Caleb asks, softly, and Molly smiles as he scrabbles across the bed to sit next to him, rather than opposite him,

“I said I wouldn’t leave, didn’t I? I’m not in the habit of breaking promises.” He bumps a kiss that’s mostly jaw to Caleb’s temple. Caleb scooches in closer, head on Molly’s shoulder, he’s missed this. Odd, considering there had been only two times before now, one of those drunk, but that’s all it’s taken for Caleb to crave this like food, like water, like air. Molly loops his arms around Caleb and they tilt, they fall to the bed below, swathed in muted sunset tones and the Cloak, Molly pulls it over the two of them and ducks under Caleb’s chin.

Caleb feels Molly’s breath against his throat, and a thought occurs to him.

“Molly, do you ever- do you remember, any of what came before you?”

Molly hums against him, exhaustion in every note.

“I have flashes. Drips of it.” He says quietly, “Nothing that I like. I’ve told you...”

“Does it worry you? That maybe, that personality might… return? Some day?”

Molly is slipping further away each second, his focus grows fuzzy and sleepy, and Caleb flinches in shock when he feels Molly kiss the hollow of his throat.

“It does. But it doesn’t matter,” Another soft kiss, “because if that happens,” and another, “I’ll kill the bastard just to come back to you.”

Half of one more, and then sleep, and Caleb is left awake and wrapped around Mollymauk, blushing with all thought of nightmares abandoned.  
_Just to come back to you._

To him. To Caleb.

Caleb feels that full-body shudder that comes so rarely in life, clings tighter to Molly and begs for sleep to come for him.

 

Blessedly, it does.

 


	14. Glitter Lip Gloss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the party! And it's pride month in Wildemount because I said so.

Caleb wakes to Molly burying his face in the little gap between the covers of the bed and Caleb’s neck, hiding away from the light where Nott has ripped back the curtain.

“Up, Caleb! Molly! You need to buy the booze.”

Molly whines, Caleb groans, arm thrown over Molly as though he can protect him from responsibility. He can’t. Molly can drive. Molly has a license. Caleb does not.

“Why did they put the two most _broke_ members on booze duty? We’re going to have three-copper vodka.” Molly grumbles as he sits up, finally, pulls away from Caleb and elicits nothing more than a faint whine. 

Uh.

When did Molly take his shirt off?

Caleb had made a move to sit up but… nope. Nope, he’s perfectly fine laying back here on the bed, studying the pyramid-and-eye tattoo combination on Molly’s back- or at least what he can see under all that hair. Molly pulls his ponytail over his shoulder, gives Caleb a clearer view in the process, begins to comb his fingers through the mass of purple tangles.  
Molly’s spine is a dip between his shoulder blades down his back, and Caleb’s impulse tells him to touch. 

So he does. Runs a finger from the base of Molly’s neck down to his tail and hums his pleasant surprise when Molly arches, almost becomes a backwards _C_ in an attempt to drag away from Caleb’s touch. 

“Caleb.” Molly huffs, “I’d like warning.”

“I’m sorry.” Caleb is wide-eyed as it sinks in, he sits up beside Molly and pulls his hand to his lap, “I didn’t- I’m sorry.”

Molly thinks that if it weren’t for Nott being in the room, watching them intently, he would have kissed Caleb then-and-there, consequence be _fucking damned_.   
But Nott is there. Watching. She throws a pouch at Molly and he catches it before it can wind him- thankful, he is, that thing is heavy. 

“Beau said she knows where your money’s going, so she’s given you the budget. I think she said twenty-five gold.”

Molly upends the fucking pouch on Caleb’s bed.  
He begins to count the coins individually, is only four or so in when Caleb pipes up, 

“Twenty-three gold and twelve silver, but it is not far off.”

“I’m being cheated out of eight silver’s worth of booze.” Molly faux-complains, shuts himself up by leaning over to bump a quick kiss to Caleb’ shoulder. It’s commonplace. It’s normal. It’s platonic, Caleb’s mind convinces him as he bubbles an excuse and slips out of bed to change into actual human clothes, rather than the too-loose white linen shirt that Molly, again, had given him. At this point, a third of his wardrobe of shirts once belonged to Molly.

Not that it’s hard. He owns six shirts.

There’s the clinking of coin as Molly gathers it back into the pouch, Nott puts in a request for her favourite brand of whiskey and disappears, and Caleb picks out the black shirt to match the white.  
Molly glances up. 

“You want me to do the laces for you?” His eyes are back on the coins before Caleb’s gaze reaches him, and he finds himself stunned by Molly’s intuition.

“I- _Ja_. But not yet, I will get the rest of my clothes together.” 

Molly tightens the pouch and flops back to Caleb’s bed, closes his eyes and groans. Caleb’s jaw locks so sudden and so tight that it aches, but he manages not to give a whine of response.

“Have you planned what you’re wearing to the party?” Molly asks, Caleb looks over.

The way he’s so languidly splayed out on Caleb’s bed… it looks like he belongs there. Hands behind his head, eyes closed, completely relaxed- if he was anywhere else, it would seem like it was out of place, because _this_. This is where he’s meant to be. 

“I have six shirts, and two of _those_ are yours. And one of those, I slept in.” 

“And the red one?”

“ _Ja_ , it’s here.” Caleb taps the hanger, “I don’t want to take the chance of ruining it whilst drinking, though. It is a nice shirt.” 

Molly shrugs on the bed, more a twitch than anything,

“Well, take another of mine, then. I know you suit ‘em.” he cracks an eye, one eye, just one to watch Caleb blush, “I know _I_ rock them, but you’re a gift from the Gods in my clothes.” 

Caleb does blush. Cherry-red, it’s startling, Molly’s never seen him turn that colour that fast but he’s proud of himself regardless.  
He closes the one open eye agan and leans back. 

Caleb’s room smells nice. The horrid scent of burning is gone now, back to the smell of books, paper, ink, traces of the herbs and incense that follow Frumpkin everywhere as part of his summoning. There’s the washing powder that Nott must use for the bedding, and lavender. Molly’s never noticed the little potted lavender plant on the windowsill, but it caught his attention when Nott pulled the curtain this morning and it gives him a warm, fuzzy feeling in his heart. Light. Like he’s full of helium.  
There’s also the faint smell of sweat, as will come with two very warm men spending the night closely entwined. But that just adds to the experience. 

Caleb finishes wriggling into a pair of black jeans, shuffles over and puts his whole hand on Molly’s face.

“Get up and dressed, you’re driving.”

Molly opens his eyes, there’s a mischievous glint, Caleb feels him smile under his hand and oh Gods what is he going to-

He licks Caleb’s hand.

“ _Molly_.” Caleb can’t stop himself in time, it comes out as a half-groan, half-whine, and he stops trying to hold himself up. He crashes to the bed, face-first, _just_ avoiding knocking himself out on Molly’s hipbone.   
Molly’s eyes widen as Caleb’s hand is dragged away, he turns onto his side and grasps at Caleb as he slithers off of the bed onto the floor into a pile. Doesn’t manage it, crawls over and hangs over the edge of the bed staring after him. 

“Are- you okay?”

Caleb gives a wordless groan from the floor, drawn out and exaggerated, and Molly relaxes at that. Not serious. Not serious, he isn’t hurt. It’s fine. Molly slips out of bed, climbs over the boneless pile of Caleb on the floor,

“I’m going to get changed. See you in five?”

“I’ll be there.” Caleb warbles, muffled by the faceful of carpet he currently has. Molly leaves.

 

Yasha is awake when he gets back to the apartment, spread lengthways on the couch reading. Beau, it seems, is curled up and taking a nap. On Yasha.  
Molly doesn’t pull his usual move, doesn’t try to wake Beau, just waves pleasantly at Yasha and shuffles off to his room instead. 

He checks his phone. Twenty-three percent battery power.

It’s a miracle it’s still on that, really, but he plugs it in for the few minutes he’ll be home and gets to work on changing.

Crop tops?

Crop tops.

Why not? For being autumn, it’s a warm day, and he’s seen the way Caleb can’t look at him in one of these things. Plus, bonus, _my eyes are up here_.   
He shuffles around a little more, decides eventually on the cheap, shiny space-print leggings, what good is dignity when you’re here for a good time, not a long time?   
Jester had bought these online months ago, he’s pretty sure this is only the second or third time he’s worn them. And it’s criminal! They’re good leggings.   
The hair is brushed quickly, roughly, let loose and bound up again somewhat slicker than before. He picks, for the day, a necklace match the leggings- blue goldstone. Always a personal favourite. Looks so much like the stars. 

The finishing touch is a lollipop, and fuck Jester for getting him started on these things, he pulls one from his top drawer and rips it open with his teeth, gives it a good couple of licks before jamming it in his mouth. The phone comes off charge, Molly grabs his car keys, saunters out with a brief wave to Yasha and meets Caleb in the hall.

Caleb, for the first solid thirty seconds, is speechless. He’s wearing the Cloak, Molly checks his essentials- money pouch, car keys, phone, lollipop, Caleb- yep. He has everything.

He catches Caleb’s hand and pulls him along down the stairs, it’s two flights before the wizard finally finds his tongue.

“You are- um. Very confident.”

“When I’m not hating myself, yes. I’m the most fly motherfucker this side of the Labenda.”

Another flight. Five more to go. 

“Is there any in between?” Caleb is managing to keep pace, now, Molly chuckles,

“If there is, I’ve yet to see it. And nobody else ever will.”

Four more to go.

“Why is that?” Caleb cocks his head. Molly falls silent to think.

Three to go.

“I think, because I don’t want anyone to see me break. I don’t want anyone to know I’m not perfect, you know?”

Two to go.

“You are telling me, though.” Caleb points out gently, “Does that not defeat the point?”

“You know,”

One to go,

“You have seen me break. A little bit. That night-”

They reach the bottom of the stairs and Caleb pulls Molly to stopping,

“Caleb?”

Caleb pulls his arms up and around Molly’s shoulders, has to stand on his tiptoes a bit but hey. Worth it. Molly makes a surprised noise and cuddles back, Caleb will never stop being surprised by the running sensation of Molly’s arms across his ribs and back.

“I am sorry. I didn’t help that night.”

“You’ve seen more than most. Even Yasha… she knows, but she hasn’t seen.” Molly’s voice is warm against Caleb’s ear.

Caleb turns and buries his face in the crook of Molly’s neck.

“I’ll be there next time.” He promises, “I will always be there.”

Molly trembles a little in his grip. And the hold on Caleb’s back tightens, fractionally, just fractionally.

“I won’t- I won’t let you be alone again, Mollymauk. Molly. I won’t.”

Molly has reached full on shakes now, there’s damp against Caleb’s neck where Molly has hidden his face and his breathing is rough and uneven and thick and Caleb knows that sound. It’s not a good sound.

“Molly?” He says, and his voice is soft, “Molly, would you look at me a moment?”

He does, draws back and Caleb sees, for the first time, tears. Actual tears, Molly is hiccuping with the effort of containing them and Caleb aches like a pulled tooth.   
Caleb shifts a hand from the back of Molly’s neck to sweep the tears from his cheeks, mumbling in Zemnian, just little placations and affectionate things, but the sound seems to calm Molly down. He gives a bone-shaking sigh, rattles himself, 

“There’s time for this later. Thank you, Caleb. I-”

He stops himself before he can say it. Before he can say _I love you_. It should be so easy. He says it to Jester all the time. Tells Yasha daily. Fjord, admittedly, less so, but that’s _Fjord’s_ boundaries, not his. 

So why can’t he say the same to Caleb?

He knows, of course he knows. It’s because he loves Jester, and Yasha, and Fjord, but he _loves_ Caleb. He’s never _loved_ someone like this before. Crushes, max. And he’s so, damn, shit scared that anything, anything, anything will drive him off, hide him away, he can’t be certain that it would be reciprocated, and even if it was, could he risk the temporary? 

Everything in life is temporary. 

And then all linear thought goes _poof_ , Caleb kisses at the soft part of Molly’s throat, right over his pulse, and stays there a moment just to feel his heart race.   
Molly feels him _smile_.   
Gods fucking damn it. This wizard is going to be the _death_ of him. 

“Ca-Caleb. Booze. Booze run.” Molly chokes, slips his hands to Caleb’s hips and pulls, and Caleb comes loose from him, finally, the smile that Molly had felt against his throat still in place.

How long is he going to have to wait to kiss him?

Time yet, he supposes.

“Are you alright?” Caleb asks, and Molly coughs in his throat, takes his hands off of Caleb to smooth himself out.

“I’ve-  I- we should. Go.”

He turns and walks and curses the choice of leggings for today’s pants because there’s a level of how obvious he can be without being obvious. And right now, he’s failing critically.

 

Caleb follows at a slow jog as Molly power-walks to the car, his issues straighten out along the way, much to his relief, and Caleb jumps in shotgun beside him.

They return three hours and fifteen gold lighter with arms full of bottles- so much that they have to call Nott and Fjord down to avoid making two trips.   
They come into Beau’s apartment and it’s nigh unrecognisable, decorated with bunting and streamers and rainbow flags. All kinds of pride flags, when Caleb looks around. 

“Beauregard?” He asks as she hobbles past, and she shrugs.

“Pride month, man.”

Off she goes.

Jester ropes Caleb into helping her hang a huge rainbow flag over Beau’s door, “Like a tapestry!” with a do-not-enter sign behind.

“Only the Mighty Nein are allowed in Beau’s bedroom.” Jester gives him a wicked grin when he groans, “It’s a cooldown space. Beau knows how you are with lights and noise.”

It’s very kind, understanding of Beau. Caleb is filled with a rush of affection for her, is very glad she isn’t here right now to receive it.  
They fix up the flag just in time, Molly comes up beside Caleb and loops his arms around his hips, lifts, and with some difficulty, carries him right out of the room. 

“This is… so unnecessary.” Caleb laughs as Molly grunts with the burden of his weight, loops his arms around Molly’s neck. Molly sets him down, and the way he half-crouches to do so means that Caleb is taller, Caleb can keep his arms around Molly’s neck and set his cheek to the top of Molly’s head, carefully between his horns. They stay there a moment.

Molly wonders if this is what it’s like to be in love.

The little things. The fun moments. The calm and the cool and the comfort and the aching even when they’re mad or upset at one another. The _being there_ , whenever they can. The understanding.   
Oof. That hurts too much. And on party night as well! Nope, he’s having none of it, presses one quick kiss to Caleb’s chest before he ducks and spins out of the grip and strides for his apartment, 

“Come on, my darling, I need to get ready and yours are the best eyes for making sure I’m at my finest.”

 

“So, what colour scheme are _you_ thinking for tonight? I want to match.” 

“I- match?” Caleb flumps onto Molly’s bed like he lives there, curls up and rests his chin on his hands.

“Match, my love, yes. As in, the same colours? If you’re wearing one of my shirts, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

He opens one of the three wardrobes in his room. Two are external, one is built in. The shirts are in one of the external.

“You are far more colourful than I am, d- Molly.”

He almost called Molly _darling_. What an embarrassment. 

“Is there any colour you’re not happy with?”

“White.” Caleb answers, immediately and without hesitation, “Not white. Anything but white.”

Molly hushes as he turns from the clothes and leans over to kiss Caleb’s forehead, “It’s okay, my sweet, I won’t force you to do anything, remember? You say not white? Then not white.”  
Caleb feels himself relax, Molly strokes his hair down the side of his face and he closes his eyes, pushes into the tiefling’s hand. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He mumbles, mutters really, but his tone is so reverent that it stops even Molly in his tracks. Not the stroking, though. He keeps that up.

“You don’t have to _deserve_ someone, Caleb. You don’t need to _deserve_ me. I’m just yours, there’s no prerequisites.” 

Caleb turns so that he can kiss Molly’s wrist instead of replying. It’s a silent thanks.  
Molly turns away, and without seeing his face, Caleb feels a little braver. 

“You are wonderful, you know?” He says, and shocks himself at how soft his voice is, “You have been nothing but sweet to me since I got here. I know I do not deserve it.”  
Molly shakes his head, skimming through the wardrobe again. 

“Don’t make me come back there, my darling, we’ll never get ready in time.”

Caleb smiles at that, snuggles his face into his hands and watches Molly patter around the room, checking colours and necklaces and his own skin. It’s relaxing. Having Molly there, being _Molly_ , is relaxing. His bed smells of lavender, his tail waves a slow, hypnotising rhythm, and Caleb is in love with him.   
That last bit tacks itself on in his mind without his permission. He almost jumps three feet off the bed, and Molly _does_ come back at that. 

“You alright?”

“ _Ja_ , I, I startled myself.” Caleb gives the smile of a man just clubbed around the head with a baseball bat. 

Of love. 

A grin, sideways and disheveled but beautiful, Molly tilts his head with his own affectionate smile.

They’re still, for a moment, and then Caleb drops back down and rests his face on his hands.

“Colours, Molly.” he warns for the lack of time, and Molly turns away again, clapping,

“Right. Right, right, right, how do you feel about blue?”

Caleb thinks. Thinks of all the colours he associates with all the people he’s ever known. Blue reminds him, strongly, of Beau and Jester.

“Blue is fine.” He tells Molly, who nods, once, firmly.

“Right. Right. So here’s what I’m thinking-”

It’s like a whirlwind. Molly shuffles between wardrobes, finds first a checked shirt, a button-up, and flings it at Caleb, and before Caleb has even caught it, Molly is nose-deep in another wardrobe. He withdraws a handful of things and comes back to sit beside Caleb on the bed, chuckling as Caleb’s shaking hands fail with the buttons on his new shirt.

“Here,” Molly hums, leans over, “Let me.”

Caleb relaxes, lets Molly take over. Molly, ever the tease, trails a fingertip down the middle of Caleb’s chest first.

“Still skin and bone, my darling. Are you eating enough?”

He begins on the buttons, Caleb scrabbles to fish his personality from the fuck-deep depths of whatever Molly has just done to him.

“I’m eating plenty.” He says, and it’s not _really_ a lie. Compared to what he used to eat, under Ikathon, in prison, whilst homeless, what he _has_ been eating qualifies as a feast. Even though it’s only really a pot of instant noodles and a cookie or two. And milk. Jester keeps feeding him things with milk. 

“You and Nott will have to come and eat with us a few times a week.” Molly smiles as he pats the next-to-top button. Caleb doesn’t like the top button fastened. He knows.

“Oh?”

“Yasha is a _terrible_ cook, but I’m not too bad.” Molly spreads out his outfit for the night. It’s mostly leftovers from his carnival personality, if not the carnival itself; the glittery tights will never _not_ be a favorite article of clothing. 

Blue checked skirt, matching Caleb’s shirt? A fashion statement if he ever saw one.

And crop tops, the mood of the day. 

Also glittery.

Everything is glittery.

“Oh, shit.” Molly startles, and heads for the second drawer down in his desk, “Not enough glitter.”

Caleb chuckles dimly as Molly riffles through his things, throws a couple of packets over his shoulder onto the bed.

“Forgot to ask, my love, would _you_ like some glitter?” Molly doesn’t even look, just continues flicking through his things, “I have colours that’d suit. Copper, maybe? Compliments blue. And your hair.” 

“I am not one for glitter.” Caleb smiles, settles himself carefully, “But I appreciate it, _liebling_.” 

Molly turns over his shoulder, slowly, a wide smile starting and spreading.

“Was that Zemnian affection?”

Caleb flushes, but the smile and genuine joy on Molly’s face stops him from going back on himself.

“Ah- _ja_ , it- it is Zemnian for darling. You seem to be, hm.” Caleb taps a finger to his chin as he thinks, “You are rubbing off on me, I believe the phrase is.” 

Glitter mostly abandoned, Molly comes to the bed and sweeps his things aside, bounces down to wrap around Caleb with hard, warm, grateful affection. Caleb laughs, light and lilting, fastens his hands around Molly, locked together at the base of his spine.

“I enjoy this.” Caleb says, muffled by the top of Molly’s head, “You. This.” a squeeze, “I would not trade this for anything.”

He goes to retract it, he hates to lie to Molly, but finds that he doesn’t need to. It’s the truth. All the Wish spells in the world couldn’t stop Caleb from wanting this.  
Molly smiles against the angle of Caleb’s jaw. 

“As much as I enjoy this too, Beau _will_ eat us if we’re late for the party. Come on, my dear, let me get ready.” 

Caleb lets him loose, and Molly changes _so quickly_. Before Caleb has even settled back into his head-on-hands curled position, Molly has stripped buck-ass naked and is working on the underwear and wriggling into the tights without ripping them. Claws, Caleb can understand, are _very_ hard to manoeuvre into not laddering such delicate garments. But Molly manages, the skirt comes easy after that, and the crop top manages to shed a metric fuckton of glitter _everywhere_ as Molly tugs it on, but so be it. 

“Do you think I should braid my hair? Make it easier to keep out of the way?”

Molly looses the beast itself from the red ribbon that usually binds it, and Caleb shuffles off of the bed to hum and run his fingers through the loose locks. He carefully untangles cotters, smooths out, Molly’s hair is silky despite the gnarls and snarls and bumps, it’s a pleasant sensation.

“I like your hair.” Caleb says absently, the question near forgotten, “It’s perfect. Wonderful.”

Molly gives a soft, almost dreamy sigh.

“You have an artful way with words, Caleb.”

Caleb smiles,

“So I have been told.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry if I-”

“No.” Caleb interrupts as Molly turns, eyes wide for his apology, “I… like it. When it comes from you. I know that you mean it in… a good way. Not that I am a useful tool, but that I make you feel good.”

“You do.” Molly slips his hands to Caleb’s and takes them, “Even when I don’t feel so great about myself. You don’t need to say anything to make me feel like I’m meant to be here.”

“You are.” Caleb protests, squeezing Molly’s fingers, “You are meant to be here.”

“Is that not what I’m meant to say to you?” Molly half-laughs, laces his fingers with Caleb’s. They’re silent, for a while, standing like that. Molly’s hair, loose around his shoulders, both of them with their eyes on their joined hands between them and those small, silly, lovestruck smiles on their faces, the creeping blush across their cheeks.

“I don’t want to live without you, Caleb.” Molly says, and it’s quieter, now. Barely audible at all. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I barely knew how to function when we weren’t talking.”

“You slept in the hall most nights.” Caleb says softly, “I know.”

Molly wells up. Thank the _Gods_ he hasn’t done his makeup yet.   
He tries to speak, but there’s no words good enough. There’s nothing he can do that’s enough, short of kissing Caleb full on the mouth but he won’t do that. He can’t ask, and he won’t do that.

It’s Caleb that lets go and shoves Molly gently,

“Glitter.” He says, and sits back on the bed as Molly gathers up his glitter packets. Situates himself in front of a mirror, and begins on the makeup.

And _Holy Fucking Nine Hells,_ Molly in eyeliner is a sight to behold. Caleb’s heart damn near stops in shock and love and _fuck_ , he can’t even word in his brain. Not even in Zemnian. 

He can only get glances in the mirror, Molly is busy daubing himself with something-or-other and patting the big pieces of glitter into place carefully, dusting himself with the finer stuff at the end. He’s chosen the blue-pink iridescent glitter, white under regular viewing, big chunks of it all around his eyes. At a most likely unsafe distance, but when has Molly ever done anything safely in his life?  
Molly ties his hair back into its usual ponytail, bound with the red ribbon as always, and he dips his fingers in glitter, works that through his hair, pats it onto his horns. 

When Molly turns with his completed _look_ , Caleb’s heart and breath both stutter and stop in his chest, wide-eyed and then heavily breathing to catch the lack of oxygen. 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” Caleb’s voice is that reverent tone again, “You are… stunning.”

Molly comes, leans down and kisses Caleb’s cheek, leaves a glitter-gloss lip print there and smiles at his work when he straightens.

“I know you’re not a man for glitter. You can wipe it off if, if you want, I have wipes, just... “

Caleb stands and shuffles to the mirror, almost puts his hand to the mark before halting just in time.

“Aside from, um. Actually marking you. You know? If that’s something, you’d _want_ , too, you can.” 

Molly is stumbling over words that Caleb is hearing and documenting for later but not processing.

“Marking you, I mean. Like Fjord and Yasha’s. I know it’s possessive but… tiefling nature, if you’re not, if it’s too much like-”

The words all hit Caleb in a rush and he turns in shock to Molly.

“You would?”

“I- I mean, of _course_. You’re mine, you know?” 

Caleb tilts his head, an odd kind of smile.

“I… yes. Not tonight. But tomorrow, maybe. As soon as possible.”

Not for the first time that day, that hour, Molly feels the burning urge to kiss Caleb. Properly. To treat him the way he deserves, like he’s truly _perfect_ , not despite his flaws but because of them. Every mistake and terrible thing that makes Caleb _Caleb_ , they’re not forgotten or glossed over but they’re _there_ , Molly wouldn’t take Caleb any other way. It wouldn’t be right. 

“Are you ready?” Is what Molly asks instead of kissing Caleb.

Caleb nods, very serious, very solemn, he says,

“I am not putting shoes on for this.”

Molly nods too, just as solemn as Caleb, it’s a respectful choice and honestly, he’s following Caleb’s lead. Shoes are for losers, it’s sock time up in here.

“Let’s get going, then.” Molly offers Caleb his arm, “Beau will be expecting us.”

 

Caleb takes the offered arm, smiling and leaning close.  
  


“Lead the way, mister Mollymauk.”

“As you wish, mister Caleb.”


	15. Opposite Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the party! Though perhaps not quite according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the Never Have I Ever questions helpfully provided by my art class.

There’s already a low thrum of music in the hall, Yasha has headed over before them, and Molly locks up to ensure no drunk party-goers wander into his apartment. Caleb checks his own door. Nott has done the same, and Caleb feels a swell of pride for how smart she is.  
Beau and Jester’s door is pinned open and although Caleb and Molly are early, there’s already a couple of people other than the Nein hovering around. Caleb spots Cali, perched on the back of a couch with one of Jester’s wine glasses in hand. 

Full of milkshake.

Judging by the six or so bottles of it they bought, Caleb suspects it’s still the alcoholic kind, but it’s a strike of amusement to see a _wine glass_ full of _milkshake_.   
She waves as she spots Molly and Caleb, with the glass, careful not to let it spill over the edges.   
As they draw closer, they see that Jester is splayed out on the couch, looking half-dead and half-dressed. Underwear and a corset, something of a shock to Caleb, who has never seen her anything but fully clothed. Molly, on the other hand, leans over between Cali and Caleb, 

“‘S ten to seven, darling, I know your dress for tonight is going to be marvellous.”

Jester makes a non-committal moaning, groaning noise. Molly smiles,

“Ah, but if you don’t get dressed, I get to be the most attractive tiefling in the room.”

“That is _not true_ , but _whatever_!” Jester grumbles in words as she crawls off the chair, “See you soon.” 

  
Jester comes back, in Caleb’s opinion, _almost_ showing up Molly. Not in glitter, but in extravagance, embroidery all along the hems of various little flowers in pink, sakura and poppies and roses, intricately entwined. The colours fade out the further up the skirt and long sleeves that it goes, getting lighter to disappear into the white, and it comes very close, very close indeed, to being prettier than Molly in his glitter. But nothing could be prettier than Molly.   
The accused turns to Caleb after that thought crosses his mind, unwilling to press kisses to him with the glitter gloss, he replaces the idea instead with a brief nuzzle. The tip of Molly’s nose is very cold against the warmth of Caleb’s skin. 

“I’m going to get a drink.” Molly murmurs against the shell of Caleb’s ear, “I’ll leave you with Cali, d’you want whiskey?”

“Please.” Caleb hums back. Mollymauk should be his own art form, the way that he moves and speaks and breathes, and then he’s gone and the space he’d previously occupied is cold. Cali leans forward over the chair, affectionate excitement all over.

“ _Mister Caleb_ ,” Her voice is breathy and low and her eyes shine and it unnerves Caleb, in the mist affectionate way possible, “Are you and mister Mollymauk…?” 

“No. Nein. _Nein_.” Caleb panics, and Cali reaches over and flutters her fingertips at the back of his hand. 

“Okay! Sorry, I assumed- don’t worry, mister Caleb, I won’t mention it again.”

Caleb draws in a little closer, the panic fades to mischief and- when he looks over his shoulder to spot Molly sauntering around the kitchen opening cupboards for no good reason- affection.

“Cali,” he says in a carefully measured voice, “Can I let you in on a secret?”

And the  shiny-eyed, bright expression is back. Cali grins, widely, nods enthusiastically,

“Oh! Oh, yes, please!”

“I think, Cali, that I may like Mollymauk. Perhaps… no, no certainly, you can say that I am in love with him.”

It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud. Caleb feels a rush. Of so much at once, affection and romance and desperation and wanting. He nearly collapses under the force of it all, Cali manages to catch his arm and yank him closer, so he sinks more on top of the sofa and part of her leg than the floor. The claws are a little sharp with such a shocked grasp, but they don’t pierce, and the bruising pain helps to cut through the sudden swirling haze.

“Thank you.” Caleb puffs, and Cali giggles, half-elven hand to her mouth, wine glass switched to the claw.

“Are you okay? That was _very_ cute. Have you told him? I assume not, but…?” 

“U-uh. _Ja_ , I am good, and _nein,_ I have not. And do not plan to, I am- I do not deal well with rejection, Cali.” 

Cali looks over to Molly as he turns, notices Caleb slumped, and leaves his drinks under Fjord’s  care as he rushes over. She just about has the time to slip in, 

“What rejection?” before Molly is there and the conversation is over.

Molly flops next to Caleb,

“Darling, are you alright?”

Caleb smiles, genuine, shocking, leans in to butt his head gently to Molly’s shoulder,

“You worry too much, Mollymauk. I’m fine.”

“With you, my love, I can never worry enough” Molly says, but seems satisfied, he presses gently into the top of Caleb’s head and stands, shuffles back to Fjord to collect their drinks.

“Mister Caleb, there’s _no_ way that you can’t see that.” Cali says frankly, “I’ve never seen mister Mollymauk behave that way with anyone but you.” 

“I am a special case in other ways, Cali, Mollymauk is just being a- a good, loyal friend.”

Cali shakes her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“I don’t think it’s smart to argue, but know that I think you’re wrong. Oh, hey- Jester!” Cali hops off of the couch, pats Caleb’s shoulder, and rushes off. Caleb groans and sinks lower.

Molly offers Caleb his drink as he draws up alongside.

“She can be worse than Jester, can’t she?” His smile is knowing, and fond, he stares off after Cali, now flitting around Jester, inspecting her dress and embroidery.

“She can. But I still care for her, I do not want it misinterpreted that I don’t. Cali has always been a good friend.” Caleb huffs into the top of the couch, tilting his head up only to take a sip.

“I know.” Molly replies simply.

  
  
People that neither Caleb nor Molly recognise flood the apartment, and Beau greets each of them like old friends. There is, Caleb sees, a couple of their Enchantment Classmates. Nancy waves absently across the room as she passes, Kara at her shoulder. 

Caleb knocks back shots about an hour in. There’s noise and sweat and lights and it’s somewhat overwhelming, but the more he drinks, the better it feels.

And then he finds himself slumped across Beau’s lap in her room, she’s drunk out of her mind and stroking his hair and they’re alone.

“Beau.” Caleb drones, sadly, “Beauregard, I have, a problem.”

“Is it Molly’s ragin’ boner for you?”

“I- no. What? No.”

“Is it your ragin’ crush on Molly?”

“ _Yes_.” Caleb wails and turns to hide his face against her side, “Beau, _Beau_.” and he’s sobbing. Beau shoves a hand gracelessly under his shoulder and yanks him up, winds him into a tight, awkward hug. 

“Don’t see what y’ see in him but, uh. You do you.”

“Beau he’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met.” Caleb wails into her shoulder, “He knows what I am and still sleeps with me.” 

“That’s too much information, Caleb.” Beau sighs, squishing him painfully.

“I mean cuddles, Beau. I- ugh.”

“Y’know what? You gotta take your mind off him. Let’s play a game. Let’s play, uh- uh- uh- Never Have I Ever?”

Caleb thunks his head down on her shoulder and sighs. He waits a few moments of quiet room, distant thrumming music and noise, and then nods against her skin.

“ _Ja_ , fuck it, let’s do it.”

 

And that’s how they end up in Beau’s room with red plastic cups full of whatever spirit each prefers. And Jester on the alcoholic milkshake. It’s all much the same.  
Cali, honorary member of the Nein, is designated to start- Ornna is outside keeping the party in check.   
Cali chews her lip as she thinks, and, 

“Never have I ever stolen from work.”

Fjord, Beau, and Jester all drink, Cali laughs delightedly, and Molly leans in,

“Jester, how do you steal from your _own_ business?” 

Jester shrugs,

“Write it off as lost merchandise!”

They settle, move around, Beau’s turn. She thinks, opens her mouth, closes it again, thinks.

“Uh, never have I ever… done anythin’ harder than weed?”

Molly drinks. Nobody else does. He raises an eyebrow at them,

“Really?”

“Yeah, we kinda, give a shit, about living? You know?”

“That’s fair.” Molly shrugs, “Yasha?”

“Never have I ever… Beau, help?”

Beau leans up to whisper something in her ear, and she nods, mutters a thanks,

“Never have I ever mixed more than two types of spirit.”

Caleb and Molly both drink, give one another surprised looks. Molly leans in to Caleb’s ear,

“Drink to forget?” he asks in just above a whisper.

“ _Ja._ ” Caleb breathes back. 

“Fjord.” Beau points,

“Never have I ever been seasick.” Is the best Fjord can come up with, and nobody drinks. Nobody.

“Never been on a boat.” Molly shrugs, and there’s a resounding agreement across the circle. Fjord puts on his best sulky face, takes a sullen sip of his drink, and curls up a little.

Molly has to think for a minute of something he _hasn’t_ done. 

“Never have I ever, um… said _I love you_ to my father.” 

Caleb shrinks in to himself and drinks. As does Fjord, and Cali debates for a moment before knocking back with Yasha. Beau and Jester remain firmly sober...er.

“You don’t _have_ a father, Molly. You’re two years old.” Beau points out, and Molly grins, 

“I know! That’s the beauty of it!”

He sees Caleb out of the corner of his eye, staring away, and curses himself for his mistake. He shuffles over, swings an arm across him.

“Caleb, my love, it’s your turn.”

It’s gentle. His voice is gentle. And Caleb has been knocked over that edge of not okay, he sighs, tilts his head up and into Molly.

“Never have I ever kissed a man.”

Fjord, Molly, and Jester all sip, and Beau frowns a little,

“You kiss _Molly_ all the time.” 

“He means on the _mouth_ , Beau.” Jester cocks her head at her, and then at Caleb, “You’ve _never?_ ” 

“ _Nein._ ” Caleb affirms distantly. Molly draws closer to whisper, 

“Eodwulf?”

“Never.”

“Oh.” Molly feels suddenly very, very light. Like he’s full of helium. Like his head is spinnnig.

“We should play spin the bottle!” Jester leans in, “We can always come back to this later!”

“I ain’t so sure that’s a good idea, Jester. Y’ forget, Beau an’ Yasha.”

Beau shrugs, Yasha just blinks,

“We’ve discussed, y’know, we’re not savages. It’s a’ight, ‘s long as it’s not kept a secret or serious. C’mon, Fjord, you know me better.”

“That’s true, I’m sorry. I’m game if you all are?” Fjord looks around the circle, and Caleb leans in to Molly,

“What is that?”

“What?”

“Spin the bottle?”

“Oh!” Molly’s grin is wide, “It’s far more fun with strangers, but you sit in a circle with a bottle in the middle. You spin it, and whoever the neck is pointing at when it stops, you have to kiss.”

There’s a sick, acidic feeling in the back of Caleb’s throat. He knows it well, now.   
But he has no right to be jealous. 

“That, or seven minutes in heaven.” Beau bounces her eyebrows at Yasha, side-eyes Caleb, “That way, there’s less pressure, more fun.”

“And that?” Caleb hums to Molly, who squishes his shoulders,

“Instead of kissing, you’re in a cupboard with them for seven minutes, and what happens, happens.”

“I think that I prefer that.”

“We’re down for seven minutes in heaven.” Molly raises a hand, “Though it might be better to play with a few more people? Adds to the _fun_ .” 

He does that thing that Caleb loves, where he scrunches his nose and face up with the smile, and Caleb’s heart aches.   
It strikes him, very suddenly, that Molly is the only one that he’d want this with. Actively want. He wouldn’t want anyone else. 

“Uh,” Beau looks to Caleb, who shrugs half an approval, “Maybe only people we’re familiar with? Just…”

“Yes, that sounds _perfect_.” Molly purrs along the word, Caleb shivers under his touch.

 

They end up collecting a further handful- Ornna, Nancy, Kara, Gustav- to Molly’s horror- and Wessik, apparently one of Fjord’s friends, a dragonborn with an easy temperament that Caleb doesn’t _like_ , per se, but finds tolerable regardless.   
The bottle is cracked out, Caleb takes another shot- gin this time- and the game begins. 

Jester spins first.

It’s hard, it spins for what feels like hours, Caleb watches each rotation begging for it not to be him. Or Molly. Anyone but that.  
It winds up being Ornna, and Jester winks dramatically as they shuffle away, into one of two designated ‘heavens’ for the evening. Jester’s room, and Beau’s walk-in cupboard- they choose the former, of course. Cali stares nervously after them, and Caleb catches her eye, blinks, slowly, a show of solidarity that he’s picked up from Frumpkin but it _works_ , dammit. Cali relaxes. The game goes on. 

Beau, Caleb thinks, must have gamed her spin. It passes them all three times before crawling to a stop on Yasha. 

They’re off to the cupboard.

Caleb pulls a face.

“I’ve changed my mind.” He hums to Molly, “I don’t much like this game.”

“It’s not so fun when you’re waiting for them to return.” Molly grins wickedly, “But _plenty_ fun if you get to rip the door open when they’re late.” 

“Yeah, uh- he’s caught me a fair few times like that.” Fjord chips with a wry smile, and Caleb finds himself mirroring it.

“Literally caught pants down.” Molly affirms, nodding, Caleb leans in toward him, the pressure of the atmosphere suddenly oppressive. Molly cuddles, Caleb smells lavender, and the pressure lessens. A little.

“We could play Never Have I Ever whilst we wait?” Cali suggests, and there’s an agreed murmur, the bottle is spun to select a victim.  
Wessik. 

“Never have I ever _deliberately_ given drink to someone underage.” he says, and eyes Molly fiercely. Molly gives a delighted laugh, trickles drink back into his throat. Caleb does the same, Fjord follows a moment later. 

“Molly counts.” Fjord grumbles, when Cali’s face turns horrified.

Gustav drinks too.

Jester and Ornna choose that moment to come back into the room, each with a new glass of alcoholic strawberry milkshake, and gold-leaf cinnamon vodka, respectively. 

“How in the _fuck_ can you drink that?” Molly points at Ornna’s glass, by no means a small amount, and she takes a swig and shrugs. 

“Hot.”

“Fair.”

It’s Fjord’s turn to spin the bottle, apparently, and it turns, and turns, and,

“Molly?”

Molly. Caleb’s heart drops out of his chest, onto the floor, shatters into dust. He stands, Caleb sinks a little lower, or at least he thinks he does.

Jealously. He thinks it’s jealousy in his throat, or maybe it’s bile, Molly and Fjord slip out of the door and Cali shoves Beau’s- blessedly bucket-shaped- bin under him as he coughs up the last half a bottle of whatever he’s been drinking. A hiss goes up around the circle, and Jester leans toward Gustav,

“Grab him some water. He needs it, there’s bottles on the-”

Gustav waves a hand dismissively, he doesn’t need to be told, already on his feet and sweeping his hair back into a ponytail not unlike Molly’s. He returns to Caleb dry-retching, undoes the cap of the water bottle for him and presses it into his hand. Cali is on his other side, rubbing soft circles into his back.

“Don’t tell Molly.” Caleb manages to whisper before he’s off again. Gustav guides the water to his mouth when he’s done, and Caleb swigs, swills, spits, and then takes a couple of gulps. Shudders, and sits back as the water settles his roiling stomach and nerves, just a little.

Cali leans against his back and he’s grateful for the comforting weight, but he thinks about Molly. About the mark, the glitter on his cheek, and the fact that he’s next door, with Fjord, having implicit kinds of fun that make Caleb burn.

And he has no right. He will never have any right.


	16. Through The Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sundays update! early bc i will be busy nearly all day tomorrow!  
> im so sorry!

“You didn’t even want t’ leave him, why’re y’ holdin’ yourself away?” Fjord splays on Jester’s bed and Molly crawls up over his legs to lie loose on top of him.

“Gotta give him his space.” Molly shrugs, Fjord settles one huge hand between his shoulder blades.

“He an’ you _literally_ have matchin’ clothes for this fuckin’ party, Molly, an’ I know you too well t’ think that’s coincidental. What’s really goin’ on?”

Molly is silent.

Very silent.

For too long, Fjord starts to become worried, it isn’t like Molly to keep his mouth _shut_ for this long, let alone be this quiet.

“Fjord.” Molly says, so soft and vulnerable that it already hurts Fjord to hear it. “How can you tell the difference between… how… how do I know that I’m in love?”

Fjord catches his sharp intake of breath not soon enough. Molly groans and buries his face in Fjord’s shirt.

“Molly, _glitter._ ” Fjord threads a hand through Molly’s hair and pulls a little. Molly groans again and turns back.

“Forget I said anything.”

“No.” Fjord’s tone is sharp, and he softens it, carefully, “No, Molly. It’s important. An’ uh… I, myself, I couldn’t tell y’ how you know. An’ y’ don’t just _know_ , either, fuck anyone that tells y’. For me, it’d be someone that makes me stronger, someone that I can trust an’ relax around. Someone that doesn’t have t’ try t’ make me feel better, they just _do_.”

Molly hums, an odd, flowing tune.

“But you could be different.” Fjord says. Emphasises. “I can’t give y’ an answer. Nobody can.”

Molly falls back to quiet.

“It’s Caleb, isn’t it?”

Molly groans again. Wordless.

“I can’t tell y’ for certain, only you’ll know, if y’ ever do. But th’ way you look at him, Molly… th’ way he looks at you, the way y’ look at him, the way that y’ both act together.”

Molly draws breath.

“That’s love, Molly.” Fjord’s tone is care and gentleness and warmth. Molly huffs.

They lie there, still for a few minutes.

And then Caleb and Cali pull the door open.

“Mister Mollymauk?” Cali asks, nervous, and Molly twists so hard to look around that he falls off of both Fjord and the bed.

“I- yes, hello, are you okay, my darling?”

His eyes are on Caleb. Not Cali. Caleb gives him a weak smile.

“Mister Caleb isn’t well.” Cali chips in, “Jester says you need to take him home.”

There’s a slow blink. Take him home. Yes, yes, Molly can do that. He’ll snag a bottle of pink gin on the way out. Maybe some whiskey. It doesn’t have to be for tonight.  
Take Caleb home.

“Of course.” He scrambles from the floor and dusts himself down, sending a scattering of glitter everywhere. And as he’s on his way out, he looks over his shoulder to Fjord, struggling to stand himself.

“Thank you for that, Fjord.” Molly says seriously, “I needed it.”

“Anytime, Molly, y’know where I am, you’ve got my number.”

Molly scuffles out of the room and goes to catch Caleb’s hand as he moves past, but Caleb pulls back, like Molly’s touch burns him. There’s a brief moment where Molly stares in shock, and Caleb deliberately avoids his eyes.

“I’m- sorry.” Molly says, quietly, Caleb just nods.

Molly snags a bottle of gin on the way, the pink stuff is all gone- well, it is a popular drink- and he can just add his own berries. There’s strawberries in his fridge. He knows. He fucking loves strawberries.  
But the priority now is to take Caleb home.

The wizard relaxes visibly the moment they’re out of Beau’s door, plodding slowly around the corner to their own apartments. Molly shoves a hand into his skirt, he added pockets to the inside for the express purpose of- ah! Keys!

The door is unlocked and Molly holds it open for Caleb with a pleased hum, flicks the lights on, leads the way back to his room. Caleb follows, silent, breathing carefully controlled.

Molly’s bedroom window is cracked open, their mess from earlier still scattered, the imprint of Caleb on the bed still there. Molly sits next to it, pats his space with a smile, puts the bottle of gin beside the bed.

“Um.” Caleb makes a noise for the first time since Molly left with Fjord, doesn’t sit, “You- I was- Jester said to take me. Home.”

Oh.  
Right.  
He’d forgotten.

Caleb watches Molly’s smile fall away and thinks of going back to his own room alone.

And changes his mind.

“No, never mind, I was- wrong.” Caleb sighs, his shoulders drop, “This is home.” He steps closer, hovers over Molly, “You are home.”

And then he falls, and Molly is waiting with his arms outstretched to catch him and pull them both onto the bed in fits of giggles and cuddles and was anything ever wrong?

“I don’t want this to- not drunk. I want, the morning-” Caleb stumbles, still smiling, but with that edge of nerves.

“I know.” Molly hushes him, “I know. You don’t have to say anything now. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Caleb lets out a shaking sigh. He’s sure his smile will crack his face, it’s so wide. Molly brushes his fingertips across Caleb’s cheek.

“You should change out of your party clothes, though. Glitter.”

“You’re _very_ right.” Molly sits up, leans over Caleb to grab a pack of wet wipes from the table on his side of the bed. He hovers over the opposite edge as he scribs the glitter and makeup from his face, and feels gentle hands distantly on the ridged keratin of his horns. Caleb, working at undoing the chains and clasps on his horns, gathering his jewellery and placing it gently on the table at his side.

Caleb’s fingers ghost down when they’ve freed his horns, he keeps his touch to Molly’s neck feather light as he finds the clasp of the gemstone necklace and undoes it. It pools in his palm when he reaches to Molly’s chest to catch it, and he tips that, too, onto the desk. Molly throws his wad of glittery wipes in the bin. And works on undressing, it’s quick work for the clothing he has, the hardest thing is getting his tights off without laddering them and they’re only midway down his thighs when Caleb sighs, wiggles his blunt human fingers.

“Let me.”

Molly stays stock still. Doesn’t even breathe, though it makes his light-headedness worse, as Caleb eases his fingers between the layer of stretchy fabric and Molly’s skin, scrumpling each leg down a few inches as a time, until Molly puts a hand on his head.

“I’ve got it. Thank you.”

And off they come.

It’s been such a long, warm evening. Molly is sweat-damp, even mostly naked in the draught, Caleb runs his fingertips reverently down Molly’s forearm.

“Ah- you too.” Molly huffs, as Caleb goes to take his hands and pull, “I’m not the only one waking up with cotton mouth and death.”

“I thought that death was three tablespoons of coffee in inch of water?” Caleb smirks slyly, “With sugar, or syrup, if you’re weak.”

Molly is breathless.

There’s no true way to describe the way that he sees Caleb in that moment. With moonlight leeching the colour from his hair and pulling Molly in toward him, like an invite, and Molly smooths his way forward. He presses his hands to Caleb’s shoulders, plants a knee either side of him on the bed and _pushes_ , until Caleb collapses back. His red hair spreads out like a sunburst under him, on _Molly’s bed_ , breathless as he looks up at Molly. There’s a dark waterfall, a cascade of curls and fuzz tumbling over Molly’s shoulder, he has Caleb pinned.

There’s a few seconds of silence, where air seems to leave the world completely. The bed, the walls, the room, the city beyond disappears. It is only Molly, pinning Caleb, staring at one another in the echoed silence of the void they float in.

“Caleb,” Molly’s voice is shallow, “You are _perfect_.”

And anyone else.

 _Anyone else_ saying that, would have sent Caleb into a tailspin. Perfect. Because that’s something he’s heard before.  
But he knows, without needing to ask, that Molly doesn’t mean _perfect_ like perfect weapon, like perfectly useful.

Molly means that he loves Caleb.

Molly means that he knows all of the mistakes that Caleb has ever made, all of the bad things that make him up, and loves him. Not _despite_ those things, but _because of them_.

Because they’re part of Caleb.

 

And Molly loves Caleb.

 

“Can I take your shirt off?” Molly asks, and Caleb nods. Molly works on the buttons, Caleb speaks,

“I don’t- when we are drunk, I don’t wish to take anything- further?”

“I know, my love.” Molly soothes, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

But skin-to-skin is something else entirely. The sight is something else entirely, Caleb sheds Molly’s shirt and shucks off the basic black pants and Molly crawls beside him, strokes gently over the scars on Caleb’s thighs.  
Caleb winces.

“I can never forget.” He says, solemnly, “You make my life infinitely better, but I will never forget.”

“I would never ask you to.” Molly smiles and dips, flexible beyond any human definition, to press a kiss to the top of Caleb’s thigh, to kiss his scars and make him shiver as though it’s a breeze on his skin, not Molly’s lips.

They scuffle back together under Molly’s quilt. It’s thick and heavy and his pillows smell of lavender, Molly smells of sweat and gin and Caleb presses in to kiss his neck. He tastes faintly salty, and reminds Caleb of the open air. Of the future.  
They fall asleep before either of them can make the confession drunk. They fall asleep, Caleb’s lips to Molly’s neck and entwined, the way they have before.

 

They wake in the morning almost simultaneously. Soft light filters through, they are warm, and Caleb isn’t afraid any more.

“ _Guten morgen_ , my love.” Molly kisses Caleb’s forehead, and Caleb falls in love all over again at the poor pronunciation and terrible accent.

He sighs, soft and content, trails his fingertips up Molly’s thigh and hip and settles his hand on his waist.

“We have things to discuss.” Caleb says, quiet, and they both sit up for the conversation.

There’s a cascade of glitter as they do.

“That’ll happen.” Molly comments idly.

Caleb isn’t afraid anymore. He takes Molly’s hand, laces their fingers together, leans into the headrush of the fact that he’s _allowed_ this.  
He’s allowed to fall in love. He’s allowed to believe that Molly feels the same. He’s allowed to hold the hand of one Mollymauk Tealeaf, lace their fingers together like this.

He’s _allowed._ _  
_

“When did you realise?” Caleb finds himself asking. Molly smiles,

“I’ve liked you from the start.” He offers honestly.

A warm, if awkward, silence fills the room.  
Molly’s hand brushes back and forth rhythmically on the back of Caleb’s hand.

“I did not think you would ever be interested in someone like me.” Caleb is quiet, almost sad, “I pushed it down. I avoided you. I-”

“You’re here.” Molly interrupts gently, “We’re still here.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker up to Molly’s at the memory. Of Molly, in this room, on this bed. The first night that they spent together, curled up under the cloak, entwined.

“We’re still here.” Caleb affirms, and Molly’s fingertips graze the angle of his jaw.

“ _Only one thing,_ ” of course Molly would choose now to sing, “ _really matters._ ”

He draws closer. Caleb can feel his breath on his skin.

“ _We’re still here_.” Molly’s eyes flicker to Caleb’s lips, silently, asking for permission, “ _We’re still here_.”

“ _Please_.” Caleb chokes, and that’s it.

That’s all it takes.  
It culminates, and it’s not a crash, it’s not a tidal wave, it’s a single bell note. Clear, and resounding, and gentle. Molly kisses Caleb. Caleb kisses back.  
Simple. Reverent. There’s none of the sense of desperation that Caleb had expected, and it hits him that there doesn’t _need_ to be a sense of desperation. Molly is here, Molly is kissing him, and Molly is going nowhere.

“Oh.” Caleb says, when they part, “That was- that was nice. Do that again.”

Molly does. Harder, a little, this time. Presses against Caleb to feel the ridge outline of his teeth and loops his arms around the wizard’s neck.

“Caleb,” Molly gasps for air, they part like surfacing from a deep, clear pond, “Caleb, I love you.”

Caleb surges in this time, less practiced than Molly by far, he manages to press his lip into one of Molly’s sharp teeth and then there’s blood, suddenly, and he’d pull away but Molly is already licking, gently, at ruffled flesh, light enough to avoid the worst of the sting. And, well, Caleb isn’t going to say no to more of Molly’s lips on his.  
They part again, longer this time as Molly heaves for oxygen, Caleb runs his own tongue over the wound. It’s stopped bleeding.

“Molly?”

“Yes, my love?”

Caleb swells. _Swells_. His heart aches like it’s going to burst.  
He’s never noticed, before- ‘ _my_ love’ has been Caleb’s address.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
They don’t go in for another kiss, they collapse in together and cuddle, fall back to the bed in scattered affection and peppered kisses.  
  
“I love you.” Caleb says again, because the way that it feels on his tongue is addictive, “Molly, I love you.”  
  
“I know, my sweet, I know.” Molly smiles so wide it threatens to split his face in half, he cups Caleb’s face and kisses him, brief and soft, “I love you too.”  
  
They spent almost half an hour that way. Cuddled up and unrestrained, no need to reign in the wayward desire to, say, press kisses to shoulders and cheeks and jaws.  
  
“When did _you_ realise you were in love with me?” Molly asks, voice conversationally soft, Caleb winds himself a little closer.  
  
“The night after I- I told you, what I have done. I woke up and I just… I knew.”  
  
Molly tucks his hand under Caleb’s chin, smooths around his neck and kisses him.  
  
“I realised that I’d been… jealous. And I hadn’t realised, until I realised that I was, am, in love with you.” Caleb continues when he pulls away, and Molly chuckles warmly.  
  
“Jealous? You, possessive of me?”  
  
“I have it under control.” Caleb reads Molly’s tone completely the wrong way, “I know it’s- not healthy, I know, I can’t stop it but I can- I can control-”  
  
“My darling. My love. My heart,” Molly smooths hair back from Caleb’s face, “It’s _okay_. You don’t have to justify to me, and I’m _so proud_ that you’re not letting it get the better of you.”  
  
“Last night,” Caleb’s voice is coarse, “When you and Fjord- I- I got so jealous I… threw up. A lot.”  
  
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Molly’s face crumples, “If I’d known-”  
  
“You weren’t, hm. Doing. What happens.” Caleb claws for the right words, and Molly rubs his thumb back and forth over his cheek,  
  
“No. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have, because the way that I considered it was that I couldn’t be disloyal to you. Without discussing it first, at least. And, of course, I didn’t realise…” he gestures at Caleb, who smiles,  
  
“They what _were_ you doing?”  
  
“Moping.” Molly answers immediately, grins, “I was asking Fjord how- uh- how you know when you’re in love.”  
  
That makes Caleb’s smile wobble in an amused, affectionate way. He bridges the gap to press a quick kiss to Molly’s lips.  
  
“I’ve never been _in love_ before, Caleb.” Molly’s voice is hushed, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way that I’ve wanted you, as _badly_ as I’ve wanted you.”  
  
Molly is so much better at words than Caleb is. And Caleb, he wants to reply, he _wants_ to explain to Molly everything inside him but he can’t. Can’t find the right words in any language, can’t think, can’t _move_.  
  
“Is that-” Molly starts, “Is that okay?”  
  
“That is,” Caleb chokes up, “That is _everything_ I could ever have asked of you. All that I want from you, Mollymauk Tealeaf, is _you_.”  
  
Molly gives a content sigh and tugs Caleb in closer, until the wizard curls with his head on Molly’s chest, the sound of his heartbeat tracking the time.

 

At some point, they must fall asleep like that.

 

They only wake when Nott slips into the room with wide, worried eyes.  
  
“Hm? Oh, Nott,” Caleb sits up, wiping his eyes blearily, “ _Hallo_ , are you okay?”  
  
“I- yes, I’m fine, are _you_ okay?” She creeps a little further in, “Jester said you were sad and sick and she told Molly to take you home? But you weren’t at home, so I thought you might be here…”  
  
“And you were right.” Caleb smiles as Molly finally drags himself up next to him.  
  
“Mmm. Morning, Nott.”  
  
“Afternoon.” Nott and Caleb correct in tandem, and Molly looks out of the window, back to them,  
  
“Afternoon, Nott.”  
  
“Beau wanted me to ask anyway, so, um. Molly? How’s your hangover?”  
  
Molly runs his tongue over his teeth and the roof of his mouth.  
  
“Not terrible, actually. Fjord made sure I was getting water in me all night, so…”  
  
“Can you go and see her, then?” Nott bounces a little, “She wants a favour.”  
  
Molly shrugs.  
  
“Sure, why not. Coming, darling?” He turns to look at Caleb, who mimics, shrug.  
  
Molly tilts Caleb’s chin and kisses him quickly, slips out of bed and begins to dress.  
Caleb’s head whips to Nott. Wide-eyed, so still that he’s sure she’s holding her breath, gaze locked to his.  
  
“Later.” He promises, and her eyes dart between Caleb and Molly.  
  
“Did- what-?”  
  
“ _Later._ ” Caleb emphasises, and Molly looks over his shoulder at the tone,  
  
“Shit.” He says, freezing, “Uh- you didn’t want… knowledge?”  
  
Caleb puts his face in his hands.  
Nott points slowly, dramatically at Molly,  
  
“What are your intentions with my- um. My Caleb?”  
  
The stumble makes Molly snort with laughter, and Nott spots Caleb peeking through two fingers at the tiefling, the expression on his face one of pure reverent affection.  
  
“Nott,” Molly straightens his face out,  “I can tell you with honesty alone, that I have no real _idea_ what my intentions are! I know how romance is _meant to go_ ,” Molly flops down beside Caleb, splays over his quilt-covered lap and stares up, reaches to the sky above the roof, “You’re _supposed_ to fall in love, move in together, have kids, get married.”  
  
“Oh, for- Gods above, Molly.” Caleb has returned to hiding his face in his hands, Nott comes creeping to the edge of the bed.  
  
“But?” She asks, she knows there’s a but, and Molly shrugs, a grin on his face,  
  
“But normal is boring!” Molly caws, makes Caleb and Nott both jump, “So really, all I can tell you is that my intention is to _love_ your Caleb. Until he doesn’t want me anymore.”  
  
He trails his fingers through Caleb’s hair, that expression of affection affixed back on his face and Caleb sighs as he peels his hands from his own,  
  
“That won’t happen.” He tells Molly, and the tiefling’s smile takes a twist of sadness,  
  
“You can’t say that for certain, my darling. You can never be certain. But never wanting it to change, that’s enough.” Molly turns to look over at Nott, “Is that good enough?”  
  
Nott squints, scrutinises him heavily, under awkward, painful silence for a moment too long.  
  
“It will do.” She relents, and Molly’s immediate reaction is to surge up and kiss Caleb hard. Nott makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat,  
  
“I’ll be at home. Oh!”  
  
She throws Caleb’s phone to the bed in front of them, Caleb gives her a wave and a thumbs up for lack of ability to talk- he still has a Mollymauk attached to his mouth, and he’s not willing to give that up. Nott rolls her eyes, and slips out.  
Molly flops back to Caleb’s lap, swollen and beaming and Caleb shakes his head, lovestruck grin firmly in place,  
  
“You are the worst, Molly.”  
  
“You love me anyway, my darling.” Molly teases, and Caleb sighs happily as he winds his arms around Molly best he can.  
  
“I do. I really do.”

 

Caleb and Molly end up being the driving mule again.  
Beau needs painkillers.  
Lots, and lots, of painkillers.

“I swear,” She groans, arm over her eyes, “I’m still drunk.”

Molly hums thoughtfully, places both hands over her head and squints like he’s concentrating. Very, very hard.

“Molly? What are you-” Caleb tries, and it cuts off as one of the eyes on the snake tattoo twining around his right arm seems to _pop_ , a quick spray of blood that dissipates into the air before it touches Beau and she groans in discomfort as _something_ drains from her, forms into a little ball, wibbling and wobbling in mid-air under Molly’s hands.

“Bin-” Molly chokes, concentration on the ball. It trembles harder at his words, and he shuts his mouth with an audible snap. Caleb turns and grabs the bin- it’s been cleaned from the previous night- and Molly guides the ball, it splashes into the bottom of the bin and swirls.

“What the fuck?” Beau lifts her arm from her eyes, “What was that?”

Molly shrugs,

“Blood powers. Extracting poison. D’you feel better?”

Beau squints and blinks.

“Uh. Yeah, actually, I do. Thanks?”

“Let’s go, my love.” Molly heads for the door, Caleb follows, Beau sits bolt upright.

“What’d you call him?”

Molly looks to her, and then to Caleb. Caleb can’t fight the small smile, sighs, and jerks his head at Beau. Molly looks back to her.

“My love?”

“Did y’ mark him yet, though?”

Oh, shit, yeah.  
Caleb had asked for that.  
Molly lets his eyes fall half-lidded, amps up the purr, takes Caleb’s chin in his hand,

“ _Later_.”

“Ugh.” Beau manages to slip in, just before Molly kisses Caleb, and the wizard flails, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, “Molly, cut him some slack, you’re killin’ him there.”

Molly draws back.

“So is this still, like, some fake platonic shit, or did you guys actually sort yourselves out and stop crying about shit?” Beau flops back down. Molly lets Caleb answer,

“We may have sorted out our bullshit.” He tells Beau with the cryptic smile he loves so much, and he can feel her roll her eyes without actually _seeing_ her eyes.

“‘Bout time. Go on, painkillers, git.”

Caleb chuckles, sets a hand to the small of Molly’s back, and guides him out.

 

  
They take a moment in the car to be truly alone.  
Molly leans over to Caleb and kisses him, long, slow, and lazy. Soft, perhaps, may not be the most accurate word but it comes to mind. Somehow, Molly still tastes of that edge of berry, the same as the pink gin he favours so. It’s sweet, intoxicating in itself, and Caleb feels that he will never get enough.  
They break apart again slowly, Molly turns the key without even looking, the car hums into action and Molly doesn’t take his eyes off of Caleb’s.

“You’re incredible, my darling.” Is all that he can think to say, “I love you.”

Caleb smiles, genuine and soft,

“It seems that now that we have permission to say it, all other thought goes out of the window, hm?”

They both chuckle at the truth of it as they settle back into sitting,

“I love you too, Molly.”

Molly pulls out of the lot and into the rain.  
The lights of the city are so distant from inside their little patch of safety, the traffic is bad and the _very specific shop_ that Beau wants her painkillers from is a fair distance away. Out of the city, but through the heavy, slow traffic.

But it’s fine. Molly plugs his phone into the stereo at a red light. The music is soft, and as they pull forward a few space, Molly looks at Caleb from the corner of his eye.

“This is your playlist.”

“I- ah- _my_ playlist?”

Molly gives a small, almost nervous laugh,

“I’ve been, uh. Collecting songs that make me think of you.”

Not for the first time that day alone, Caleb looks at Molly like he’s falling in love all over again.

“Can I look?”

“Sure, uh- my- my password is. Caleb.”

Caleb gives a snort of laughter as he keys in his own name and finds Molly’s music app,

“You know, Fjord told me that I was not subtle. And yet somehow, I had convinced myself that all of the affection and attention you were showing me was platonic.”

Molly hisses,

“Must have sucked.”

“Very much.” Caleb is smiling, though. He finds the list of playlists, “Which one?”

“Fuck, in all caps, and a broken heart emoji.”

“Oh, Mollymauk.” Caleb checks out of the window. The light is red, so he leans over and kisses Molly’s cheek. And comes back to the phone to check out the playlist.

There’s only a couple of songs that Caleb recognises, and most of them are things that he’s heard over the past month. All of them- every single one- makes him smile, and maybe ache a little, he half-sighs his affection and Molly’s awkward chuckle is back.  
Caleb doesn’t look up from the phone,

“Mollymauk, you are- hm. I have never met anyone as… sweet, and understanding, and incredible, as you are. I don’t-” oh, that chokes. Oh dear. “-I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this.”

Molly’s hands tighten on the wheel as they pull forward and through the lights at long fucking last. He takes a corner.

“Caleb, I’m driving so I can’t come over there and kiss those ideas right out of you,” another corner, Molly grunts as the car slips a little in the icy downpour, “But you do. You do deserve me.”

“I don’t, Molly, I- I never could-”

“Then-” Molly interjects before Caleb can continue the spiral, “-Then, it doesn’t matter if you _deserve_ it. I want you. _You_ , Caleb Widogast, I want _you_. Please don’t keep yourself away from me.”

Caleb looks up from the phone, finally, to Molly, splitting his attention between Caleb and the road. And he sighs, softly, relenting,

“I’ll try to do anything for you.”

Molly’s concern splits into a wide smile.

“And I’ll walk through hell for you, my love.”

 

They’re out of the city now, more relaxed, the rain is letting up a little bit. It’s less of a sheet on the windshield, and more a light splatter, which lightens further to a drizzle after another few minutes of listening to the songs that Molly has picked for Caleb.  
Each one makes Caleb’s heart ache a little harder, makes him fall in love a little further, makes Molly’s somewhat-awkward grin a little more dazed. They come toward a junction, Molly scans up and down, and takes the turn, so much more gentle than Caleb is used to.

And, see, if Molly had been taking the turn at his usual reckless pace.

If he hadn’t been so careful for Caleb.

Everything would have been fine.

 

Caleb glances out of Molly’s window and is filled with fear and shadow and shape and,

“ _MOLLY!_ ”

Molly’s head jerks too and the only thing that he can think to be his last words are,

“ _I love you, Caleb._ ”

 

And then the truck hits them.

 

And the world goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're very quickly coming to the end of this fic now, there's only two or three more chapters  
> have fun!
> 
>  
> 
> OH ALSO  
> [in case you're curious, here's molly's playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLk8IchauanhR7aJG9nrwAh4ZL6RgPv4GF)


	17. Through The Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb wakes up.

Caleb’s vision is triple when his eyes open, he’s never had a hangover as bad as this. How much did he drink at Jester’s last night?  
His fuzzy vision collects into shapes, at least, and it feels like someone has smoothed ice down his spine. And through his blood. And into his heart. 

He’s staring at a shattered-out windshield, over peacock feather decals, to a field littered with debris of a crash.

His hands are on the buckle for the seatbelt before he can really comprehend what’s happening, but it’s been jammed. So his hands go to his head instead, because it hurts, _really badly_ , and they come away sticky with blood. 

But this is Molly’s car.

So.

Oh.

No.

He turns, slowly, to Molly’s seat.

 

No. No, no, _no, no, NO_. 

 

“Molly?” his voice is hoarse, like his throat has been squeezed. Maybe it has. He doesn’t remember much, “Mollymauk?”

Molly is slumped over the wheel, Caleb can see a trickle of blood coming from a wound on his forehead, and if that was the only blood it would be concerning enough. But there’s blood _everywhere_. 

From Molly’s ear, his nose, dripping slowly onto the wheel and down and Molly’s eyes aren’t open. He’s completely limp.  
Caleb scrabbles for Molly’s glove compartment, he knows the tiefling keeps a knife in there for whatever fucking reason, it’s about time it came in useful.   
He finds it and cuts, first, through his own seatbelt. The fibers are tough, and the knife isn’t the sharpest, it takes some sawing, and halfway through he realises. 

He needs to call for help.

Molly’s phone had been tucked in a reasonably secure place, and though the car, and therefore the stereo, is busted, when Caleb pulls the phone out, there’s only one crack.

And it’s still functional.

He calls for an ambulance, first, almost on autopilot and thankful for his mind automatically checking the street signs for this _exact_ reason, he manages to get within a few roads and explains that he’s only recently arrived, he’s not sure, he’s sorry, and _please help_ , his boyfriend is dying.   
And when he hangs up, that aches more. 

He hasn’t had a chance to call Molly his boyfriend yet. He needs to live, Caleb needs to do that. He needs Molly. He can’t lose Molly.

He won’t lose Molly.

He calls Jester.

She picks up with a light, jesting tone,  “Hell-o, Molly, did you forget which store Beau wants again?”

“Jester.” Caleb chokes, “Jester, help.”

“Caleb?”

Back in her apartment, Jester’s blood chills, she looks over to Beau in wide-eyed panic. Beau, hearing her voice, hobbles over,

“Jester, something- something hit us, help me. Jester, he’s not moving.” Caleb garbles, his left hand on the phone, his right on the knife. He manages to get through his seatbelt, leans over to start on Molly’s, his spine groans in protest.

“Okay, Caleb, stay calm.” Jester’s voice becomes the hard, business-like edge that terrifies Beau and all questions that she was going to ask die on her lips. Jester turns away to concentrate, “Is he breathing?”

“He’s over the wheel, I can’t- I can’t get to his mouth-”

“Check visually, then. Is he breathing?”

Caleb gets through the first part of the belt and pauses to watch Molly’s back. It is, rising and falling, but shallow, and perhaps too fast.

“Short and quick, but yes.”

“Good. Okay, Caleb, I want you to tell me what happened.”

“We were- we turning, and a car- a truck- I don’t know, it came out of, of, of nowhere, I think we must have flew from the road into a field.”

Jester worries her lip,

“You’ve called the ambulance?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll do what we can now, okay? I’m here, Caleb, okay?”

“Okay.” Caleb answers dimly. Manages to get the seatbelt free of Molly.

“I need you to answer a very important question, Caleb. Can you smell gas?”

 

For a moment, Caleb thinks she’s fucking around, and feels rage boil up inside of him. And then it hits him that she means fuel, and _oh_ , yes he can. 

 

“Yes. I can, what- Jester, what the fuck do I do?”

“You need to get out of there. But- ah- Molly, he could be hurt.”

“I need to stabilise his neck and back, right?” Caleb is working on his door. It won’t budge, he kicks it hard and it pops open.

“I mean- really, yes, but I don’t know if you have that much time!” Jester’s calm voice becomes shrill with panic, “I’m not _really_ medically trained, Caleb, I can just do magic things with my hands! I don’t know what to _do_.” 

Caleb climbs out of the car and yelps. His ankle, the one he _wasn’t_ kicking the door with, is very, very painful. He pauses, runs his fingers over it and finds it swollen badly.   
Too fucking bad. If it’s broken, it’s broken, he’s getting his boyfriend out of this car immediately.   
It twinges with every step, and he near-enough hops around the car and wrenches Molly’s door open. 

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice, “Where are you? Tell me where you are, we’re coming.”

“I-” Caleb chokes, garbles out the street names he’s seen, “-It’s a junction. Three ways. You can’t- you can’t miss it, there’s a hole in the barrier.”

Molly’s arm flops limply down, Jester is sobbing in Caleb’s ear again instead of Beau’s voice, Caleb moves in and runs his hands lightly over Molly’s body. He funnels some of the arcane in, can’t find much of a spell to help. He’s busy running through the list in his head that he knows, and a few he’s been reading over, anything, anything, anything.

“Caleb?” Jester asks in his ear, no longer sobbing, “Is he alive?”

“I- yes, yes I think- I need to get him out, Jester,” His eyes fix on a thin plume of smoke, “There is fire.”

 

It’s happening again.

 

It’s happening again and there’s nothing that Caleb can do to stop it, if he moves Molly, he could die. If he leaves Molly, he _will_ die. There’s flickering of flames. Caleb has less than a minute, by his estimation. 

“ _Could_ is better than _will_ ,” Jester’s voice says, and he hadn’t realised he was speaking aloud, “Get him out and then get him still. _NOW_ , Caleb!” 

He wastes no more time, wraps his arms around Molly and pulls him from the car, Molly’s phone falls to the damp earth with a wet, dull thud and Caleb kicks it with his bad ankle in the direction he drags Molly. His ankle screams in protest, but he’s not far enough yet. Kicks the phone again, the car is really going up now, Molly is limp and bleeding in Caleb’s arms. One more kick, a little more dragging, Caleb sets Molly down and crouches over him, shields him and waits.

Ten seconds trickle by. Caleb thinks he might have been wrong. Maybe the car will just burn.

 

 _NOPE_ . 

 

There’s a loud bang, Caleb hunkers down as burning debris flies through the air, he feels something hit his back and bounce off, missing Molly’s phone by inches- a section of burning seat, Caleb pats the space on his back that it had struck, in case of fire.  
The fire, blessedly, doesn’t last long now that it’s spread out in the drizzle.

  
But Molly still won’t open his eyes.   
Caleb crawls up next to him, the phone abandoned. 

"Molly-" Caleb chokes, bows his head over the tiefling and watches his own tears drip slowly onto Molly's face, "-Molly, wake up. Wake up, please."

He slips a hand under Molly’s head, gently, and it’s sticky and thick and warm and Caleb knows that Molly has lost a lot of blood. He leans down, kisses Molly's forehead, his nose, he hovers.

Why did he let him sell the Periapt for him? If it wasn't for that, Molly wouldn't be dying in his arms. Caleb could do something about it.

Jester's voice chirps at him from the phone to stay still, to keep pressure on the wounds, the ambulance will be there soon. She's on her way.

"Molly." Caleb sobs, roughly, "I'm so sorry. I love you, Molly, I love you, please. Please wake up."

He needs to stay conscious. He needs to stay awake. He needs Molly.

But the pain is getting worse, in his head, in his ankle, and he has to turn away from Molly to throw up, it gets so bad.

He fights to keep himself alert next to Molly. Over Molly. To keep Molly warm.

He fights.

He really does.

He…

 

 

Jester and Beau pull up around the corner, just as Molly and Caleb are being loaded into ambulances.

“Jester, they’re gonna be okay.” Beau hisses, “You still don’t have your license. You can’t-”

“Shush.” Jester’s knuckles are white on the wheel, “I don’t _care_.” 

They watch a flood into Molly’s ambulance, the doors pull closed, and Caleb’s ambulance follows suit a moment later, they pull away. Jester and Beau wait, a few seconds, before following.

 

They pull into the hospital parking lot. Beau calls Nott first. Jester calls Fjord.

“Nott, go over to Fjord’s. No, I’m serious, now, you- Nott, Caleb’s hurt. He could be dyin’, just fucking, _do it_ _Nott_ , for fucks sake-!”

“ _Fjord_ ,” Jester wails, “You need to get to the hospital _now_ , they’re gonna _die_.” 

“Y’want me to bring… uh… jewellery?”

Oh.   
Oh, Jester had forgotten that she could do that. 

“Yes! Yes, please, please!”

Beau calls Yasha the second Nott hangs up.

“Molly.” She says.

“I’m with Fjord.” Yasha answers.

  
  
They arrive so fast that Fjord must have broken the speed limit, he pools jewels into Jester’s hands and she takes off with Nott at her heels. Fjord looks over his shoulder at Yasha and Beau, and then follows. 

Beau stumbles to Yasha.

And bursts into tears.

Yasha bundles her up, completely, soothes and kisses the top of her head and squeezes.

“I can’t loose ‘em, Yasha.” Beau hiccups, Yasha, no idea what to do, rocks them both back and forth, gently.

“They won’t die, Beau. They have Jester, they have the hospital, remember? They have things to come back to. Things to fight for.”

“They only _just_ got over their bullshit this mornin’, why’d I send ‘em out in this weather?” She tries her damndest to sink into Yasha completely, because the pressure all around her just isn’t enough, “This is all my fuckin’ fault, Yasha. They’re gonna die, because of me.” 

“No!” Yasha’s exclamation startles Beau into peeling away a little. “It’s not because of you, and they’re not going to die, Beau, stop. It’s the fault of whoever ran them off the road and drove away. It’s not your fault.”

Beau’s face twists like she’s going to start crying again.

“You would say the same to me if this had happened.” Yasha says seriously. Tears spring to her eyes as they do to Beau’s, “They are going to be fine. And it isn’t your fault.”

And she leans down and kisses her. Drives any thought of response out of Beau’s mind and mouth for it, and it might not be the first time but it damn well feels like it.

 

  
There’s an insistence of traditional, physical medicine in the hospital. Jester holds her chains of diamonds, dripping from her fingers like the rain from her hair, and the corners and edges push hard into her palms when she scrunches her hands into fists. Molly and Caleb are in the same shared room, there’s machines hooked up to them, and Jester had to fight to be allowed in here right now. If she hadn’t been able to drop her mother’s name, she doubts she would be, but she stays between them and out of the way and it’s definitely against hospital protocol but they leave it as it is. As long as she’s not interfering with the way they poke and prod and stick things to her friends. 

They’re both still breathing. That has to be enough.

Fjord, Nott, Beau, and Yasha are all pressed to the window outside, Jester’s head is almost elsewhere. She listens to _compound fracture_ , and _major head trauma_ , and _possible brain damage_ and just. Switches off. Sits down, out of the way and on the floor and waits for someone to call a time of death, but nothing more. 

Outside, Fjord grimaces.

“Someone should call Cali. For Jester.”

“I’ll do it.” Nott raises a trembling hand, as much as she doesn’t want to leave. She rounds a corner, they hear her shrill voice kept low, and Beau leans in to Yasha.

“They’re gonna be okay, right?”

“They’ll live.” Yasha says. And Beau knows that Yasha understood what she asked. She understands the answer, too.

 

 

Caleb is rushed in for surgery that afternoon. The ankle that he’d so deliberately ignored hurting him, he’d managed to jostle what would have been a complex fracture into a compound fracture, almost certainly by diving over Molly to protect him from debris.   
Molly, on the other hand, was more complex in a different way. That being that the battering his head had taken hadn’t broken any bones, but it had caused swelling on the brain. 

A nurse sits Jester down and explains that they’re going to have to keep Molly under.

A coma.

Just for a few days, just until the swelling reduces, and even then they won’t know the extent of the damage until he wakes up. 

The Nein is warned. There could be consequences.

Caleb comes out of theatre, the cuts on his head are stitched up and his ankle is bound in layers of bandages and guide bars to keep it safe and still.

“He’s copyin’ me, look.” Beau jokes weakly, and it does make Yasha smile a little. That’s better than she could have hoped for. Far better. 

Caleb wakes up the same evening, bleary and delirious on the painkillers they’re dripping through him, but he sees Jester and smiles.

“ _Blue_.” His voice is hoarse and lilting and so terrifyingly _not_ Caleb, “You are blu-ue.” 

“Yes, yes.” Jester smoothes hair back from his face, Beau keeps a lookout, and Jester focuses on the healing light she holds within. She sweeps over the little wounds and heals them first, Beau gives a peep before she can move on to the ankle.

A nurse, someone to check his cognitive ability. 

“Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital.” Caleb says pleasantly, leaning back into the pillows. Beau shares a look of concern with Jester. Caleb, quite contentedly, gives the date, the city, the name of the starosta of Zadash, all with perfect accuracy.

“Where’s Molly?” he asks, when the nurse leaves. The smile is gone now, replaced with concern, “I- I can’t remember- I know something bad happened. Where is he?”

Jester worries her lip, Beau comes to his bedside.

“He’s alive. That’s where he is.”

“Beauregard, I know that you are not telling me the whole story, and I would _very_ much appreciate it if you would tell me the truth.” 

Beau feels a wash of magic.

 

That _asshole_. 

 

She fights it, as hard as she can, but Caleb’s will is stronger, even in his drugged-out state.

“He’s in a coma. They’re keepin’ him under, t’ try and stop the swelling on his brain.”

“Beau!” Jester gasps, mortified,

“He had a couple broken ribs, but the worst of it was the head.”

“He could still die?” Caleb asks, wide-eyed, and Jester tries so hard to clamp her hand over Beau’s mouth before she can answer.

“Yeah, he could still d-mmph.”

Too late. Caleb stares at her. Stares at the ceiling. And starts crying.  
The Suggestion wears off, and Beau slips to the floor with her face in her hands.   
It feels as though nothing will ever be right again.

 

They keep Caleb in for two days, and the Nein keeps a rotation of visitors at hours that shouldn’t be allowed but _are_ , because all Jester has to do is drop the name _Marian Lavorre_ and faces pale and seas part. He fights when they tell him he needs to leave. 

Molly is still unconscious.

On crutches, properly cast up now, Caleb hobbles to his boyfriend’s bed.

The machines around him buzz and wheeze and beep.

This Mollymauk. His Mollymauk. He looks so weak. Caleb has never seen Molly look weak before.

He leans down and kisses Molly’s cheek, too cool for Caleb’s comforts, and he nearly bursts into tears then and there.

“I love you too, Molly.” He chokes, and Cali rubs comforting circles between his shoulder blades, “I love you.”

“Come on, mister Caleb.” Cali says gently, “I’ll bring you back in the morning.”

He straightens up, can’t fight the tears that are pushing any more, and Cali dabs gently at his cheeks with a tissue.

“Mister Mollymauk will be okay. I know him, he’s strong.” She nods, and Caleb knows that she believed the things she’s telling him, can’t break his own heart to even suggest that he disagrees. 

“I still worry.” He settles on, “I love him.”

“I know you do.” Cali puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes, “It’ll all be okay.”

 

Cali takes Caleb home.

  
  


“We’re having a sleepover.” Nott tells Caleb when he comes into their apartment, “At Beau and Jester’s place.”

“Sleepover?”

“Get the Cloak.” Is Nott’s only answer. She sweeps through the cupboards and her room, and Caleb returns with the Cloak, Frumpkin, and a change of shirt- Molly’s red flannel,

from the coffee incident. He finds a pile of blankets shuffling around the room, bumping into things occasionally and cursing.

“Nott?”

“Oh, Caleb!” Nott’s voice is muffled under the blankets, “I can’t see, can you help me?”

Caleb comes to the pile, pats around the top,

“Tell me when I hit your face.”

Pat. Patpat. Pat pat pat- “There.”

He puts his hands at roughly the location of her shoulders, either side of the face area, and turns the blanket pile around, guides her out of the door, and she potters away as he locks up.

Beau and Jester have cleared the floor of their main room. Now, it’s a giant bed, full of blankets and quilts and pillows and when Caleb walks in, Nott, the blanket pile, has managed to trip into the middle. Yasha and Beau are curled together, watching some kind of meme video on Yasha’s tablet. Jester and Cali look like they’re taking a nap, and Fjord is sitting and offering an arm out to Caleb.

Caleb falls into it without consideration, Frumpkin hops from his shoulder at the last second and lands amongst the pillows, Fjord doesn’t complain about him once. Just lets Caleb crawl over and curl into his side, careful to keep his ankle safe and elevated.

 

“We’ll go see him t’morrow.” Fjord soothes as Caleb presses to his side and shakes, just a little bit. “He’ll be a’ight, Caleb, you wait ‘n’ see.”


	18. We Were Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sleepover Setup doesn't change.

“We’re going to try and wake him up today.” The doctors of the hospital tell Caleb and Cali as they hover over Molly’s bed, “It’s been a few days. The swelling has reduced. We’re going to try and wake him up.”

Caleb turns to Cali and almost collapses crying with relief, she wraps her draconic arm around him and squeezes him to her, humming some kind of song that she’s not really sure what it is. But it gives Caleb something to focus on, she repeats the same pattern and Caleb mimics it, and they sit together in a chair and wait.

The rest of the Nein waits outside, Caleb clings to Cali and begs her not to leave, and Cali promises that she won’t. She stays close, as the hospital staff gathers around them, pushing machines back and working on dials and then… waiting.

 

The seconds trickle by like hours. 

The staff are all holding themselves deathly still.

Caleb can’t remember the last time he took a breath.

Cali’s watch ticks, and it sounds like an earthquake.

 

Molly twitches.

And his eyes open.

 

Caleb bursts into tears again, Cali winds her arms around him and rocks, hushes him gently. The staff pat at Molly, explain to him what’s happening, and slowly, carefully, remove the apparatus that has been breathing for him three days. They’re running checks as Caleb creeps to Molly’s bedside, and finds that familiar red gaze on him.

“Hello, my sweet.” Molly greets, his voice is hoarse from disuse and having a tube down his throat, but it’s _Molly_. And that’s enough to make Caleb start sobbing again, hands on the edge of the bed tightening in the covers. Someone gives Molly a couple of sips of water. 

“Hey, now, Caleb.” Molly can’t move his arms for the amount of people poking him, but he has his voice. That’s enough. It has to be.

“You are alive.” Caleb whispers through tears, “I thought I’d lost you, Molly, I don’t know if I could live without you.”

“Hey,” Molly’s voice still has that rasp but it’s soft, he’s soft, “I’m still here. We’re still here.”

“I have had that song on repeat.” Caleb says quietly, “When I was alone. When I was trying to sleep in the hospital. It has been terrible.”

“I’ll be right as rain in a few days, my darling, but you should go and get a cup of tea, some food, come back when you’re done. I’m going nowhere.”

Caleb frowns, working the suggestion over in his mind. Molly frees an arm long enough to lift it to Caleb’s cheek, and Caleb turns into the touch, kisses Molly’s palm.

“I love you. Those could have been your last words, Molly.”

“I know.” Molly’s smile quirks to the side of sadness, “I chose them thinking they would be.”

Caleb swallows down the next wave of tears.

“Go. Food. Drink. And everything is going to be okay, my love, my heart. I promise.”

 

 

It’s Cali that forces Caleb out of the room. It’s Beau that forces him down the stairs- elevator- to the canteen. It’s Fjord that forces a cup of hot tea into Caleb’s hands. It’s Jester that puts a sandwich and a cake in front of him and sits across, folds her hands together.

“We won’t force you to eat. You really should, though.”

Yasha puts a glass bottle on the table next to him. It has one of the little pumps that Caleb attributes to perfumes, and there’s a distinct smell of lavender.

“Jester recommended that you use this, since you can’t shower.”

“You smell _really_ bad.” Jester agrees, and Caleb laughs half-heartedly, sprays the lavender, takes a sip, takes a bite of sandwich. The group gathers around him, Nott presses into his side, Cali slips onto Jester’s lap, Fjord, Beau, and Yasha begin a back-and-forth-and-round of boulder-parchment-shears. 

“Caleb?” Jester chips over the sighs and groans of Beau losing as Caleb finishes his sandwich.

Everyone pauses to silence, Caleb looks up at her,

“Hm?”

“We love you.”

Oh.

 

Caleb Widogast has a mouthful of sandwich, a handful of tea cup, and a face full of tears.

 

“Didn’t mean to upset ya.” Beau leans over, hands Nott a tissue so she can dab the tears away whilst Caleb chews his sandwich slowly, sobbing. “Just thought, y’know, was important t’ let you know that we care. Maybe _I_ care. You’ll never know.” 

She curls her fingers around the tips of his, has to lean a fair way across the table to reach but it backs up her implication of care and that’s the important thing.

Jester checks her phone.

“Finish up, Caleb, they’ll have finished the initial tests for Molly now.”  


 

When they discharge Molly, Caleb cries again. He stands up, shaking a little with the effort after a week of not even getting up to piss, and then takes the last few steps to bundle Caleb up- carefully, the broken ribs haven’t _magically_ healed yet, but they will when he gets home. Or in the car, maybe; Jester, Fjord, and Cali are out in the parking lot under the weak, early winter sun. 

The hospital staff insist on Molly being wheeled out, so they’re escorted downstairs, Molly in a borrowed wheelchair, Caleb swinging off on his crutches, and Jester waves from the window as they come into sight. She comes out and winds an arm around Molly, supports him to the car and lets Caleb slip into the back middle seat, lifts Molly in after him. Cali loops an arm over Caleb’s shoulders as he’s buckled in, squeezes the anxiety right out of him.  
They start moving, Molly’s fingers clench on the edge of the seat and Caleb slips a hand into his, lets Cali take his other hand. 

“We are okay.” Caleb soothes Molly, leans over and kisses him. It’s been a week since he could kiss Molly properly like this. “We’re still here.”

“We’re still here.” Molly agrees, and presses back to Caleb for another kiss, his white-knuckle grip on the seat forgotten at his boyfriend’s touch.

 

Back at home, the sleepover setup hasn’t changed. And there’s no plan to change it, they’re all so nervous and attached now, Beau sleeps so close to Caleb that she can touch him and all of them scattered have fallen in together, into the middle. Which, incidentally, is where they lie Molly. Head in Caleb’s lap, slipping away to sleep as Caleb plays idly with his hair, Yasha and Jester on either side with their hands on Molly’s chest, and the others pooled at the bottom watching carefully.  
The radiant glow draws Molly’s attention from Caleb to his ribs, breathing gets so much easier and the ache is less. Jester presses gently over the places his bruising has just faded from, and grins brightly, 

“All healed! I’ll do _one more_ , just to make sure he can stand up to all the cuddles.” She flashes her grin to Caleb, adding the edge of mischief, and glances her hands over Molly’s chest with a final radiant glow. And lets him up. 

Caleb falls in first, careful of his cast, pulls Molly to him and bundles and kisses anywhere that he can reach. And then everyone else follows, Yasha, Jester, Fjord, Nott, Beau, and Cali, they scrabble together in a cuddle huddle around Molly, quiet but for the sound of breath and laughter and Caleb’s kisses, hard as they get with Fjord pressing Caleb’s face into Molly’s neck.  
They melt, gloop together into the blanket pile and pull more quilts over them, the Cloak comes up to cover Molly and Caleb. 

Molly turns, kisses Caleb full on the lips,

“I don’t think I need the Cloak.” he says, hushed, as Yasha settles her head on his thighs and Jester twines her tail with his, back to his side and Cali in her arms.

“Oh?” Caleb asks lightly, “Why?”

“I have you.” Molly answers simply, “You protect me.”

Caleb kisses at his jaw,

“I want some time alone, tomorrow.” he tells Molly, “I have things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Go t’ sleep and organise your sex life t’morrow.” Fjord grumbles from somewhere above Molly’s head, “I love y’ both, and I’m tired.”

“Sorry, Fjord.” Molly replies, a chuckle beating in his throat, “But yeah. Tomorrow. Love you, Caleb. Love you all.”

He gets a chorus of exhausted “Love you”’s in response, and one loud, snappy, “Fuck you, asshole” from Beau, coupled with a squeeze of his shin, and Caleb smiles, tired and wide.

“I love you too, Molly.”

All tucked in together, the sound of the Nein breathing, it’s a comfort after so long in the hospital with the beeping of the machines as his only solace. It’s easy to fall asleep there, in Caleb’s arms. With Fjord’s head tucked against his, Jester pressed to one side, Yasha’s head on his lap, and Nott, Beau, and Cali all within arm’s reach if he wants them.

It’s easy.

  
 

Okay, so waking up isn’t so easy.

One of them getting up wakes the others in turn, and Yasha feels _really_ bad but there’s a 7AM thunderstorm and she sits at the window transfixed at the bolts of lighting across the dark sky.   
Beau drags a blanket over and falls back to sleep, curled around Yasha with the blanket over them both, Yasha’s hand in her hair.   
Nott curls around Frumpkin and moves to nestle above Caleb’s head, the warmth of Fjord to her back and Caleb’s head under one hand. 

“Nott.” Caleb mumbles, sleepy as he comes to, “Perhaps we should make coffee?”

“Shush. Sleep.” Comes Nott’s response, and Molly chuckles as he turns to his side, pulls Caleb in toward him for a kiss. Nott makes a strange, strangled noise and hops up, scrabbles away, pulling Fjord out of his deep sleep in the process. 

Caleb feels Molly smile against him, knows this was deliberate.

“Clever.” He tells Molly when he can talk again, sees the glitter of Molly’s eyes, smiling in the occasional lightning bright.

“I learn from the best, my love.”

“You two are disgustin’ly cute.” Fjord says in a tone of faux disapproval as he struggles up, “I’m goin’ t’ help Nott with th’ coffee. Y’ both want one?”

“Please.” Caleb answers for them both, feels Molly squish him in thanks, “Thank you, Fjord.”

“Any time.” Fjord hums, and potters off, leaving the blanket pile to Caleb, Molly, Jester, and Cali.

Caleb pushes himself up onto his elbow to look over at them, smiles.

Cali is curled into Jester’s chest- no easy task when Cali is almost six feet tall, and Jester is barely five. But they’ve tried, and it’s mostly worked, and it’s adorable. Jester’s neck creaks as she turns to side-eye Caleb, like he’s the reason she’s awake so early.  
He mouths _sorry_ at her until she turns back and kisses the top of Cali’s head. 

 

They drag themselves up an hour later, when lying still, sitting still, drinking coffee all gets too boring for Molly’s tastes and he begins to twitch and fiddle and pepper Caleb with kisses.  
Caleb stifles his chuckles, at first. And then Molly’s efforts double, he picks the most sensitive and ticklish areas, and the chuckles turn to giggles, become harder to stifle. Jester whips at the back of Molly’s head with her tail,

“Your own room, Molly!”

“Of course, of course, I’m sorry, darling.” Molly smooths himself and Caleb down and stands, offers Caleb his hand up. Double takes at the cast,

“I’d forgotten about your ankle.”

“So had I.” Jester turns and reaches to press her fingertips to Caleb’s leg, just above the top of the cast, lets out that radiant glow in a burst and then huffs as she turns back over and cuddles up to Cali, muttering darkly.

“Level three spell slot… got himself killed… dick…”

Molly chuckles along to the timing of her deliberately loud pieces, ducks, and lifts Caleb bridal style from the floor.

“Hey, Yasha,” He strains over his shoulder, “I’m you!”

“Don’t drop him.” Yasha murmurs, without looking back, and Molly chokes something that sounds like it was supposed to be a laugh, stumbles off to the door.

Nott opens it for them, they ease into the hall, the door closes behind them.

“You don’t need to do this, Molly.” Caleb smiles as he nuzzles against Molly’s neck, arms around his shoulders, heart in his hands, “I can walk. Hobble. Hop.”

“You might have to.” Molly creaks, makes it around the corner before he has to ease Caleb down, lean him against a wall like a cane and stretch out. His muscles are sore, very sore, from the disuse, from the strain, he stretches it all out. Caleb laughs at him.

“Molly,” He sighs, shakes his head, Molly stops partway through popping his shoulder, “I am… very glad to have you back.”

Molly slips up, it’s not hard to pin Caleb to the wall in his current state but it’s still pretty exciting, Caleb is about an inch shorter and looks up at him, shrinking lower.

“I missed you.” Caleb adds, breathless under Molly’s silent shadow.

When Molly kisses him, Caleb expects something gentle, soft and affectionate, the Gods know that he loves that from Molly.

But when Molly kisses him this time, it’s hard. Desperate and pent-up and a little bit painful, and perfect.  
Still in the middle of the hall, though. 

“Still interested in that mark?” Molly puffs when he draws away, slips to Caleb’s bad side to act as a crutch.

“Yes.” Caleb answers immediately, “Gods, yes, please.”

Molly hobbles Caleb into his apartment, through the maze of mess on the floor gathering dust, into Molly’s room.

Caleb finds himself being pushed to the bed, he flails and jerks and hits soft fabric with a soft flump and the smell of lavender and Molly hovering above him, carefully unbinding his hair. 

“You said,” Molly’s voice is soft as he climbs onto the bed, over Caleb, “Things. Plural.”

“Things?”

Caleb’s brain is too busy thinking about how beautiful Molly is like this to recall the conversation of the night before.

“Last night.” Molly drops, sits at the top of Caleb’s thighs and leans over him, stretching his back. It pops three times, Molly’s eyebrows raise, “You said that there were things you wanted to talk about.”

“Ah.” The conversation rushes back to him, “That.”

Molly freezes.

“Your tone doesn’t fill me with confidence, Caleb, is something wrong?”

“No, I- I just. Hm. It, was the determination, of late night and lack of sleep, you understand?”

Molly smiles a little. He’s made many reckless decisions after three nights of no sleep. One of those being, of course, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to the very attractive new man on the floor. And look where that’s gotten him.  
That _very attractive new man_ , underneath him and staring with a reverent nervousness. 

“I understand.” Molly settles, works on unbuttoning Caleb’s shirt, “You can tell me anything, my love, you know that.”

“It was more of a question on- on- hm. How you- your attitude towards, feelings of, um. Commitment.”  
Molly’s hands still on Caleb’s buttons, halfway down. 

“Commitment?”

“Yes, I- I mean, I understand that um- perhaps, monogamy- maybe, not _your_ thing and we should, we should talk about that separately,” 

“You know me so well.” Molly murmurs, presses a light kiss to Caleb’s collarbone,

“Yes, I mean. More of the, um. Legal. Kind.”

Molly looks up very slowly, and oh dear, the lack of a smile on his face does not give Caleb cause for celebration, no indeed.

“Caleb Widogast,” Molly’s voice is low, dangerous, “Are you proposing marriage to me?”

“Perhaps not, that directly, just… testing to see if it is something you may be interested in?”

Caleb’s voice is high with the stress, Molly feels a little bad about worrying him. But he forces his expression calm.

“Caleb.” Molly hums, “I can tell you with total honesty, there is nothing I would like more.”

All of the tension seeps out of Caleb at that, like he becomes liquid underneath Molly, he relaxes completely and allows that silly, sunny grin to spread itself over the veiled sense of joy. 

Molly would want to marry him.

Mollymauk Tealeaf would want to _marry_ him.   
And marriage, Caleb has found, has never been something that he’s truly been interested in but he sees Molly and imagines this, with the glint of rings, calling Molly his _husband_ and it’s as though fireworks fill his emotions. 

“I love you, Molly.”

“I know, sweetheart, I love you too. You might want to take the shirt _off_ though, I won’t lie to you, there’s going to be blood.” 

Molly sits back up to let Caleb do the same, helps to strip him out of it and then pauses,

“Gauze. I’ll be right back, my love.” He kisses Caleb’s forehead, briefly, and slips off of his thighs to scoot out of the room.

Caleb tries to relax as he waits.  
It will be nice. He’s excited. He’s- it doesn’t seem like it, but really, he is, it’s just. 

Scars.

He has a lot of them. He’s not afraid to add to them, he’s just worried that Molly won’t- Molly has seen his scars before. That’s fine. It’s still nerve wracking.  
He’s not really sure how he feels.   
But he is sure of a few things.   
First, he loves Mollymauk Tealeaf. With his whole heart, he loves him.   
Second, he wants this. He wants to be marked, if only for the love of someone _other_ than Trent having that hold over him. But that’s not all of it, though, it would be selfish- Caleb loves the idea of Molly being able to call Caleb _his_. Caleb can say that he _is_ Molly’s. And that’s a wonderful thought.   
Third, something about marrying Molly that ghosts out of his head as the tiefling accused comes back into the room, carrying a bowl full of water, some bandages and gauze, some wipes. 

Oh wow, okay. This is happening.

“Are you sure about this, Caleb?” Molly says softly, sets the bowl of water down on the side, the other things piled next to it. He turns back to Caleb, who nods,

“I- I am sure, just… nervous.”

“You know you don’t have to? You’re mine, with or without it, there’s less permanent ways to show that.

“I know.” Caleb raises his eyes to meet Molly’s, and Molly is startled every time by just how blue Caleb’s eyes are. Like the sky, like wind and freedom and open plains and new beginnings. Molly loves the sky. Molly loves Caleb’s eyes.

Molly loves Caleb.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure.” Caleb affirms.


	19. We're Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story comes to an end.

Molly starts with kisses, layering them like salve over Caleb’s collarbone, making Caleb sigh contentedly at the light touch, the hand on his hip, the tiefling in his lap. He flinches as the first hint of teeth, and Molly stops.

Caleb whines.

Molly pulls away a little, to catch Caleb’s face and check his expression.

“You’re still sure?”

“ _Ja_.” Caleb agrees, breathless, “ _Ja_ , I am sure. Please, Molly.”

Molly is still hesitant as he dips back down, fingertips to Caleb’s skin and Caleb fights to stay still.

“ _Bitte, Liebling_.”

That eases Molly’s nerves, apparently, he ducks back down and showers a light splattering of kisses, and when the teeth come back to graze this time, Caleb doesn’t flinch. He does gasp a little, though.

“Please.” He manages, and feels Molly breathe out, hard, and then in and then there’s a shock of pain as Molly bites. He stays still a moment, rolls, and eases out, licking the blood from his teeth and lips as he turns for the wipes and bowl. Caleb takes his face in his hands before he can turn too far and kisses him hard, Molly gives a cat-like _mrrp_ of surprise, but eases into kissing back, cups Caleb’s cheek with one hand and pats for the wipes with the other, manages to dip one a little and press it over the bite mark on Caleb’s collarbone.

Caleb, meanwhile, is _lost_ , pressing into Molly as though his life depends on it, like Molly is air underwater and eventually, Molly is forced to draw away.

“My darling, as much as this- hnn-” Caleb shifts under Molly, drives all thoughts from his head and makes everything, for a moment, very static-y.

Caleb chuckles, rough and hoarse,

“Is everything okay, Molly?”

Molly bites his own lip a little too hard and there’s _more_ blood and holy shit the way that Caleb’s eyes narrow on that is hot.

“As _much_ ,” Molly tries, ragged, “As I would like to continue this-” a taste of Caleb’s own medicine, he thinks, as he presses forward in Caleb’s lap and Caleb whines, “I think we should clean up your shoulder first, my love.”

“You’re a Gods-awful tease, Molly.” Caleb huffs, but leans away and lets Molly wipe his shoulder down gently, careful to avoid swiping the wrong way and irritating the wound.

He presses a kiss to the unmarred skin in the middle when he’s done, puffed up and pink with the irritation, and turns from Caleb to pick up the gauze and bandages. He sets the gauze over the wound gently, proud of himself for getting it at just the right size, lifts Caleb’s hand to hold it in place whilst Molly works on the bandages, a couple in a cross-pattern over his chest and shoulder and ties them off.

“There.” Molly purrs, slips off of Caleb to take everything from the side and move it into the main room. Caleb takes an estimate that it’s around nine in the morning.

 

Molly is gone for a few minutes, the distant clinking of bowl and the sound of the bin as Molly cleans and puts away and Gods, Caleb is frustrated, he can’t imagine how Molly feels having to _walk_ like that.

Caleb scuffles back onto the bed a little, into the middle, it wouldn’t be fair to say he _shucks_ off his clothes because that would imply that it was _easy_ . But with some rustling, yelping, and grunting, he frees himself, and,

“Caleb, darling? I hope you aren’t starting without me in there.”

Molly’s tone is light, but honestly, if he doesn’t come back to bed _soon_ Caleb is going to have to _start without him._

  
Molly deliberately takes his time, wipes the blood off of himself, his hands and mouth, cleans the bowl out and puts it on the side, puts the dirty wipes in the in. Opens the medical pack, puts the roll of bandages back.  
Sheds his newly blood-splattered shirt at the door. And goes in.

“Well.” Molly tilts his head in distant intrigue, one hand to his hip, “Aren’t you excitable? And _pale_ , darling, I’ve seen the moon look darker than you.”

“Molly,” Caleb whines, trying hard to look _stunningly tempting_ , “Would you _please_ stop teasing and _come to bed?_ ”

“Ah, my love, my heart,” Molly grins as he closes the door behind him, “How could I say no to that?”

 

The thunderstorm fades out at about ten thirty. Yasha sits at the windowsill for another half an hour after that, Beau in her lap with her arms around Yasha’s waist, they both mumble along absently to the songs in whatever musical Jester and Cali are watching together, legs tangled.

“I should go and check on Molly. Make sure he didn’t fuck up the mark like he did with me.”

“How do _you_ know Molly’s markin’ him?” Beau stares up, genuinely intrigued, and Yasha gives her distant, mysterious smile.

“Molly has never been able to hide things from me. I know everything.”

“Well,” Beau checks her phone for the time, “Wouldn’t go over for… another half hour? Around that.”

“Oh?” Yasha tilts her head, kisses Beau in her silence, “Why?”

“They fuckin’.” Beau answers plainly, tilts to lie on Yasha’s shoulder as Fjord, Nott, and Cali all splutter. Yasha and Jester, miraculously, remain breathing.

“What are you all freaking out about?” Jester frowns, “It’s just sex?”

“It’s more the way it was said, Jester.” Fjord leans over her counter to explain, “Beau, can we try t’ have just a _little_ more fuckin’ decency an’ respect when it comes you our friends’ private lives?”

“Sorry.” Beau groans from Yasha’s shoulder, sounding like she’s not sorry at all.

“How do _you_ know that?” Yasha asks her, and Beau grins wickedly, taps the side of her nose,

“Built-in disapproval meter.” She tells Yasha, “There’s high levels of _ew, fuck, gross_ comin’ from your apartment right now. It’s deadly, we’re gonna have t’ call in the exterminators. What are you doing?”

“Texting Molly.” Yasha’s smile is devious, she tucks her phone away before Beau can get a look at her message.  
  
****

**FROM: The Oncoming Storm** ****  
Be Safe. Condoms Are In Your Bottom Drawer.

 

Molly strokes through Caleb’s hair and murmurs apologies, leans over to snag his phone from the side. It’s a miracle it’s unharmed, though he did have to get Beau to put it in rice after the rainfall, and he keeps finding bits of dirt in the cracks.

“Fuck’s sake.” He murmurs, but when Caleb looks to him in sharp concern, he finds Molly smiling and sweat-damp and ludicrously handsome, as always.  
  
****

**TO: The Oncoming Storm**

firstly, how the fuck do you know where my condoms are?

**TO: The Oncoming Storm**

secondly, yeah, i know where *my* condoms are

**TO: The Oncoming Storm**

thirdly, how did you know?

**TO: The Oncoming Storm**

and finally, too late for warnings now 3;)  
  
****

**FROM: The Oncoming Storm** ****  
Beau, Good, Beau, And Thanks I Wanted To Know That. Don’t Use That Emoji. Ever.

 

Molly chuckles, kisses Caleb’s forehead as he reads the texts. Caleb lets out a short, delighted laugh, takes Molly’s phone from him

 

 **TO: The Oncoming Storm** ****  
You should tell Beau to mind her business, I’m sure Molly and I could pull up some dirt on her. Perhaps something about marks?  
  
**TO: The Oncoming Storm** ****  
;)  
  
The emoticon is tacked on for tone, Caleb groans at his own awkardness and turns to Molly’s shoulder. Molly takes his phone back with one hand, uses the other to tilt Caleb’s chin up and- _click_ \- take a photo as he kisses him softly. It’s a little skewed, but it’s good enough, Molly sets it as his background and Caleb pats at him half-heartedly.

“My hair is a mess, you _can not_ use that.” He argues, and Molly grins impishly,

“My darling, anyone’s hair would be a mess after _that_ much pulling. My bed looks as though it has been invaded by a giant cat.”

He pats at the quilt to prove his point, strands of gingery hair are scattered across it, and Caleb can’t force away his flush.  
He doesn’t feel shame, though. With the way that Molly looks at him, how could he ever?  
Molly looks at Caleb like he’s the moon, big and beautiful and bright and a symbol to worship and revere. Something constant and wonderful.  
It’s unusual, in that for the first time in a long time, Caleb dares to believe. Maybe not that he _is_ any of those things, but he believes that Molly means them. That he is important to Molly. That if he was gone, Molly would hurt.

And he’s seen too much hurt and sadness on Molly’s face, seen too much blood pour from his body, to ever consider hurting him without his consent, ever again.

“Molly?” Caleb says, softly, and Molly looks from his text debate with Beau to focus on Caleb,

“Yes, my love? Is everything okay?”

Caleb studies Molly’s face and feels himself slowly edge into a grin. When Caleb smiles, Molly smiles too.

“I love you.” Caleb tells Molly, and kisses him, and it will never be enough.

 

Their sleeping arrangements are wobbly for a couple of weeks after that. They head back to the Academy after taking the week off, and when they come home, it’s to Jester’s apartment, to the blanket pile, to sleep. Their days are spent individual, no different, but coming back to the group huddle is the end game for the day, and it’s a comfort.

They begin to space out carefully, because Jester and Beau’s main room can’t act as their bed forever. First, Beau and Yasha head to Beau’s room at night to sleep, within shouting distance, but singular.

Then Fjord goes. Back to his home, though he comes back partway through the night for three days in a row and sleeps to Caleb’s back. They congratulate him, the first night he sleeps in his own apartment the entire night.

Surprisingly, Molly and Caleb are the next to go. The keystones of the blanket pile, but aching for some more time alone, they sleep more often than not in Caleb’s apartment, with Nott- a few days later- sleeping next door. It’s a comfort to Nott, who, they learn, has been sick with worry over Caleb, over whether Molly is treating Caleb right.

The evening that Jester pins Caleb and tells him that, Molly spends with Yasha, and Caleb spends it braiding Nott’s hair and talking to her about anything that comes to mind.

Because anything will do for her, all she’s ever wanted is a family, for Caleb to be happy, and she’s found both of those things in the Nein.

It hurts Molly to move out of the apartment he shares with Yasha. Really. It does. But he moves in with Caleb and Nott and Caleb’s room changes from the plain with the books to the crystal-covered, tapestries on their dark-dusky walls, Frumpkin at the end of the bed, batting at each loose crystal until Caleb gives him a faux-stern look.

Cali might _officially_ move in with Yasha, but Beau spends most of her time in Yasha’s apartment, Cali spends most of _hers_ in Jester’s, they refuse to swap rooms though. They both argue they have the coolest flatmate, and secretly, they both believe that the other is right.

Caleb works from home, mostly, whilst his ankle heals. And with Jester’s magic, that only takes a month- Nott, not Molly, goes with him for the cast off and it’s like there was never anything wrong, even his scar is faded, and Caleb flushes and hugs Jester so tightly that she has to ask him to let go.

 

 

Almost three months after the car accident, Caleb pulls Beau, of all people, into a crevice to talk to her.

“I need you to help me.” He tells her quickly, Molly will soon come looking if he’s worried, “I need- I need to find a jewellers.”

Beau prides herself on being smart and intuitive. She cocks her head like a confused dog,

“Jewellers? Uh, there’s Pumat, I guess? Why’d you need a jewellers?”

“No, a- a mundane, jewellers. Somewhere that sells… rings.”

Beau’s head cocks the other way, and Caleb can see the gears spinning in her head.

“Oh.” She says, as it finally clicks and her icy eyes widen in shock, “ _Oh_ , Caleb Widogast! You _beast_!”

Caleb winces, Beau hisses, pats his shoulder,

“Sorry. But no, yeah, I can do that. Tomorrow, say… eleven? I’ll meet y’ in the stairs, say I’m buyin’ for Yasha, he won’t question.”

“Yes. Thank you, Beauregard.” Caleb lets out his nerves in a shaking, smiling breath.

“Hey, no problem, right?” Beau punches his arm, “We’re family. I’ll try to do anythin’ for you.”

She hugs him, one-armed and less awkward than they used to be, but they’ll never truly shake it.

“Remember, I love you.” She adds, quickly, the genuine tone she uses when she hates to admit it. Caleb smiles and chuckles for her.

 

Beau meets him on the stairs at eleven sharp.

“You are on time.” He tells her.

“I didn’t make you lie to Molly.” She replies, and her words might be vague but Caleb is very smart, he’s not the only one buying a ring today.

They discuss gemstones and metals and how big to make them, what their partners would appreciate.

“Molly says that Iolite is a very _Yasha_ stone.” Caleb says idly, scouring over a few rings, “It is very pretty, the big blue one he wears on his left horn, at the base, on that chain grid he has.”

Beau thinks about it, recalls and nods,

“Yeah. Yeah, it does seem super _Yasha_. Hey,” Caleb turns, “Why don’t you get Molly somethin’ with _his_ gem in?”

Caleb blinks at her.  
How did _he_ not think of that? Genius!  
He tells her as much and she swells with pride, and even chuckles a little bit.

“I know. I know. So what is his gem?”

And there’s the snag. Molly never associated himself with a gemstone. But as soon as it becomes a problem, it stops again, and Caleb smiles,

“Moonstone.” He says, “How could it ever be anything else?”

  
They come away both with boxes tucked nervously in their pockets and their hands linked between them.

 

“When are you gonna do it?” Beau asks as they make their way up the stairs. Caleb thinks it over for a while,

“I was going to pick an important time, a date, somewhere special, but I think perhaps a movie night is in order. At Jester’s?”

Beau grins big at that, nods wildly,

“Would it be stealin’ your thunder if I did it then, too?”

“No.” Caleb shakes his head, “I think that would be sweet.”

“I’ll talk Jester ‘round. Cali’s my leverage, she can never resist a musical.”

“I’ll text you when I am about to do it, we can do it at the same time, _ja_?”

“Or vice versa, but, uh- yeah. Yeah. Thanks, Caleb.”

“I am only doing what you would do for me.”

They smile at one another, top of the stairs, pause before they part.

“See you tonight.”

“And you.”

And they separate.

 

 

Jester, it turns out, is _very_ on board. She picks a romantic movie, something sappy and sweet and even recommends a time for Beau and Caleb, which they take her advice on.  
The Mighty Nein piles into the room, Jester shoots Caleb a text just before they’re due and Caleb catches Beau’s eye.

He holds up three fingers.  
Two.  
One.

Jester pauses the movie as Beau and Caleb move, almost in tandem, sharing one last look of _good luck_ with one another.

Caleb gets down on one knee, and Molly bursts into tears.

Beau gets down on one knee, and Yasha panics so hard that she accidentally backhands her, and the proposals fall apart as Caleb runs to help pick her up under Yasha’s apologies, Beau laughs, raucously, swipes the back of her hand across her mouth and holds her ring out anyway.

“Offer’s still on. Marry me?”

Yasha can’t even find the right word for _yes_ , just moves in and hugs Beau and kisses her and one-handedly slaps Caleb back in Molly’s direction.

“I have never loved anyone or anything as much as I love you.” Molly tells Caleb as he stumbles up to him, ring box still in hand, and Molly chuckles at him, “I really do think that the fates aligned for us, because, look,” Molly makes a grabby hand to Jester, who throws him a box, too, “I was going to propose to you, too.”

The gem in the ring that Molly has is different to the amber on his horns, Caleb looks at the chain, at the ring, and a smile tugs at Molly’s lips.

“Sunstone, yeah. Different. Means joy, brightness, all things you’ve brought to me.”

“I-” Caleb has to laugh, “I chose moonstone, for you. Rainbow moonstone.”

Molly beams, shakes his head in disbelief,

“And isn’t that wonderful. Marry me, Caleb Widogast?”

“Of course, Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

 

  
Caleb twists his ring around his finger. It’s been there a week, he’s still not used to it he thinks, but he takes it off to shower and feels naked without it. It’s another way that he’s marked as _Molly’s_ , he’ll never belong to Trent again.  
As much as he hasn’t stopped searching for spells, he’s looking for a new way. A way that fixes his mistakes, but doesn’t change the world he’s made with them. He couldn’t stand losing Molly, couldn’t stand to lose the Nein, his family now.

Molly says that he’s getting better. The nightmares almost never come, and he’s never alone when they do. Molly kisses them away, bats them off with his soft touch and lavender scent and love.

“You know, Molly,” Caleb muses into the dark, “You never did take me to the lake.”

“Did I not?” Molly asks in disbelief, “Criminal. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“Did I not tell you? I got a new car. Peacock has been replaced!”

“Oh. That’s wonderful.”

He’s nervous. Of course he is.

“Hey, Caleb?” Molly says softly, turns to his side.

“ _Ja?_ ”

 

“We’re still here.” Molly says, gentle. Caleb smiles.

 

“We’re still here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats it! Thank y'all so much for sticking with it <3  
> I have another fic up called "Can We Stay Like This" (which is also ending this week at a total of about 75k!) and am working on two more, one of which will be about 25k, the other I'm not sure, both widomauk ofc!
> 
> again, thank you, it's been great <3
> 
> And hey, if you wanna quote your fav lines from the fic @ me, please do, I like to kno what I'm doing right.
> 
> and hey *2,,, look at that total wordcount

**Author's Note:**

> Big shoutout to the [Widomauk Discord](https://discord.gg/S5CwQKJ) for enabling me to write this whole fic in two weeks.
> 
> If you wanna contact me, you can find me here:
> 
> Discord: Taliesin is a pyramid#0700  
> Twitter: @Alpha_Geminorum  
> Tumblr: Mollymockerytealeaf, or Zemniannights!
> 
> Don't make comments about my formatting please, I know it sucks, I just straight up can't change it because it doesn't look right and last time I got comments on my formatting I just fucking quit so...


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